


Into Thin Air

by clgfanfic



Category: Walker Texas Ranger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy disappears, but someone knows where he might be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Thin Air

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ouch! #12 under the pen name Robyn Jordaine. This was a co-written story with Paige Aaron.

# Day One

 

The first thing Cordell Walker noticed was his partner's delighted smile, then the man's animated expression and bouncing walk that made it seem like Trivette was moving on the balls of his feet.  He grinned and shook his head.  Had he ever been _that_ excited about a pending vacation?

"Fourteen hours," Trivette announced, frictioning his hands in delight.  "Fourteen hours, Walker, and I'm off to Ja- _mai_ -cia!"

"Right," the Ranger replied, dipping his head so it appeared like he was engrossed in the latest piece of paperwork.

Trivette perched on the edge of the man's desk, overlooking Walker's attempt to ignore both him and his bubbling enthusiasm.  "Just think, this time tomorrow I'll be enjoying the fresh ocean air, the sandy beaches, the deepsea fishing—"

"The heat, the humidity, the bugs," Walker interrupted without looking up.

"Oh, like we don't have plenty of those right here?" Trivette countered, his excitement dimming for a moment, then flaring back with renewed strength.  "Admit it, Walker, you wish you were going."

Cordell shook his head.  "Nope."

Trivette leaned further over the desk, grinning.  "Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," Walker stated matter-of-factly, forcing himself to remain focused on the paperwork.

"Yes, you do," Trivette concluded with a knowing, smug chortle.

The phone on Walker's desk rang, ending the exchange.  The older Ranger picked up, saying, "Walker."  He listened for a moment, then handed the receiver to Trivette, his expression serious.  "It's for you."

"Me?" the younger Ranger asked, then reluctantly accepted the receiver and lifted it to his ear.  "Trivette."

"Jimmy?" Alex asked.

Hearing the familiar voice he sighed in relief and replied, "Yeah, hi, Alex, what's up?"  Looking at Walker he rolled his eyes, telling the older man what he thought about his feeble attempt at humor.

"I was hoping you could stop by my office.  I want to go over your statement for the Nixon case."

"Sure.  Is there a problem?"

"No, I just want to go over a couple of points – in case the defense raises them while you're away."

"Sure, no problem.  I can stop by around…"  He thought a moment.  "…How does ten sound?"

"That's fine."

"Okay, great, I'll see you then.  Bye," Trivette concluded, then handed the phone back to Walker, who returned it to its cradle.

"Problem?" Cordell asked, a slight smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.

"Nope," Trivette said, another bright smile flashing across his face.  "Ja- _mai_ -cia, mon," he repeated, standing.  "You want to go."

"Do not."

"Do too…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Trivette held up two shirts at arm's length, trying to decide which one to pack.  A knock at his front door ended the mental debate and he tossed both shirts onto the bed to fold later.   _Better over-prepared than under-prepared_ , he decided.  _Besides, you never know who you might meet in an exotic tropical paradise_ , he reminded himself, images of beautiful, bikini-clad, black-skinned women dancing through his thoughts.

Striding to the door, he checked the peep-hole, then turned the deadbolt and opened it. 

"Walker?"  Trivette stepped back, allowing the older man to enter.  "What's up?"

Cordell handed his partner a file folder.  "Alex dropped this off.  You need to sign."

"Oh, yeah.  I forgot," he said, then grinned.  "Hey, I'm almost packed."

Walker shook his head.  The man was at least as excited as a teenager getting ready for his first date.  "I'm real happy for you, Trivette."

With a teasing grin Jimmy carried the file over to the sofa and sat down.  Fishing a pen out from under the _TV Guide_ he opened the folder and signed the statements he'd given Alex earlier that morning.  Tossing the pen back on the coffee table, he closed the file and handed it up to Walker, saying, "All done."

The bearded Ranger accepted the proffered file, asking, "You need a ride to the airport tomorrow?"

"Naw," Trivette replied, bouncing to his feet.  "I'll park in long-term so the car will be there when I get back.  Unless you want to pick me up at 11:52 p.m."

"Not really."

Trivette saw the good-natured twinkle in his partner's eyes.  Walker would pick him up if he asked him to.  "I didn't think so," he replied, letting the man off the hook.  "Really, I'm fine."

Walker nodded, then turned and walked back to the door.  "Have a good trip."

"Oh, I will," the black man assured.  "You wish you were going, Walker.  I know you do."

"No, I don't," Walker countered as he opened the door.

When the door closed Trivette headed back to his bedroom to finish packing.  "Oh yes, you do."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Two

 

With a slight frown, Trivette noted a dark blue Bronco that seemed to be following him.  He entered one of the airport's long-term parking lots and began cruising up and down the long rows, keeping an eye on the Bronco as he mentally competed with the truck for an available spot.  Finally finding an empty slot between two large SUVs, Jimmy swung his gray Stealth in and parked.  He glanced around, but didn't see the Bronco.

 _Probably still trolling,_ he thought with a grin, then checked his watch.  Two hours to his departure time.  _Time to get moving_.

Climbing out of the car, he pressed the electronic button, locking the car, then closed the door, humming.  Glancing around one more time, he looked for the Bronco, spotting it as the truck rounded the row where he'd just parked.

He grinned again, a little wider.  _Beatcha to it_.

Walking back to the Stealth's trunk, he opened it with his key.  The collection on his keyring rattled against the car as he left them in the keyhole when the trunk lid lifted.

"Don't worry, be happy," he sang softly as he leaned forward, grabbing the handle of his soft-sided bag.  He jerked and grunted as he felt a sharp sting erupt in the back of his right thigh.

"What the—?" he said, reaching back to explore the site.  His fingers closed around the smooth cylinder of a dart at the same time he noticed the Bronco rolling to a stop behind him.

"Wait," he heard someone say, "he'll go down in a second."

Knowing that he was in trouble, Trivette leaned forward, dropping the bag in the trunk and clumsily tugging off his fraternity ring, letting it drop into the trunk as well.  He pulled the bag over to cover it.  When Walker found that, he'd know something was wrong.  That done, he reached back for the dart again, but the world began to spin, then contorted into broken, unrecognizable shards of light and color.

The Ranger dropped heavily, the pavement biting painfully into his knees.  Pitching forward, Jimmy's shoulder slammed into the corner of the Stealth's fender before he hit the ground, confusion pulling him into the welcoming arms of oblivion.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Trivette had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but when he finally woke his muscles were tight, his mouth was dry and his head pounded torturously.  He was lying face down on carpet that smelled like stale smoke, his hands tied tightly behind his back.  He groaned softly, the carpet odor making his stomach tighten dangerously.

"Hey, I think he's coming around," a masculine voice stated matter-of-factly just before the toe of a boot poked Trivette's side a couple of times.

"Sit him up," another voice commanded.

Rough hands untied him, then turned Trivette over before the Ranger could force his eyes open.  Someone jerked him up into a seated position, leaning him back against something as pain flared through his shoulder and head.  Jimmy blinked, finding two white faces slowly resolving out of the drug-induced fog.

"Who—?" he tried to demand, but his tongue was too thick and too dry to form the words.

One of the two men leaned forward, grabbing the front of Trivette's shirt and giving the Ranger a rough shake that sent fiery shards of pure agony slicing through his head.  Hands coming up, Jimmy weakly tried to fend off the man.

"Can you understand me?" the tormentor demanded in a half-choked voice.

Trivette nodded, trying to swallow the bile that was climbing steadily up the back of his throat.  His eyes slid closed as his stomach tightened further.

"You goddamned bastard," the man hissed, shaking the Ranger again.  "Do you know who I am?"

The pain exploded in his head again and Trivette ground his teeth together, refusing to allow the groan stalled at the back of his throat to escape.  He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to force the man's face into better focus.  He shook his head slightly.

"I said, do you know who I am?  Say something, you bastard!"

"No," Trivette managed.

"Harris.  Neil Harris," the man hissed, giving the Ranger a good jerk, forcing the groan free.  A sadistic grin cut the man's face as he asked, "That name mean anything to you, boy?"

Trivette closed his eyes and swallowed another moan that desperately wanted to slip past his lips.  No way he was going to give the man that satisfaction a second time.

 _Harris…  Harris…_  There was something familiar about the name, but his thoughts were too muddled to locate the answer.

"My sons went to prison because of you, boy," Harris continued.  "Now Cody's dead, and Toby's— He's— He's—"

The big man sitting next to Harris flashed Trivette a knowing grin.  "Let's just say the boy's a little too pretty for prison life, Ranger.  He's gotten real popular."

Harris shot the man a damning look, but immediately turned his attention back to Trivette.  "You listen up, boy, and you listen real good.  You're goin' to Hell, and I'm goin' to personally deliver you.  You're gonna wish you were never born.  You destroyed my sons.  I'm going to destroy you."

The man's words echoed in Trivette's mind as he slipped back into the broken whirlpool of confusion.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Three

 

Walker looked up, then smiled at Alex as she crossed the squad room to his desk.  "Good morning," he greeted, admiring the flattering cut of the sage-green skirt-suit she was wearing.  Several of the other Rangers were doing exactly the same thing.

"Good morning to you," she replied with an enticing smile of her own as she rounded his desk and leaned back against it.  "So, is lunch still on?"

The bearded Ranger nodded.  "One o'clock?" he asked, then leaned forward slightly to reach up and gently rub a tiny black smudge off Alex's chin.  "Changing the toner in the copier again?"

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.  "Yes, I was," she admitted, shooting him a "you're insufferable" look.  "And one o'clock is fine.  But that's going to cost you.  I want to go to—"

The phone interrupted her and Walker reached out to grab the receiver.  "Walker."

"Hey, Walker, it's Dale Tass.  Where the hell's Trivette?  You guys get a case or something?"

Cordell's expression turned stony and Alex stood a little straighter as she mouthed, "What's wrong?"

Walker gave her a curt shake of his head as he said, "He's in Jamaica."

"Not so, amigo," Tass replied.  "Arnie, Steve, and I were at the airport this morning to pick him up, but he wasn't on the flight, and it left on time out of Dallas. Airline says he never made it."

"Let me check a couple of things here and I'll get back to you," Walker said. "Where can I reach you?"

Tass passed along their hotel name, room number and phone number, then concluded with, "I'll give you a call if he shows up on a later flight."

"You do that," Walker instructed, then hung up.  He looked up at Alex.  "Trivette didn't make it to Jamaica."

"What?" she asked, worry rounding her bright blue eyes.

Reaching for the phone again Walker said softly, "I have a bad feeling about this…"

"I'll start making some calls, too," Alex volunteered, walking over to Jimmy's desk and sitting down.

Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece Walker instructed, "Hospitals first."

Alex nodded and reached for the phone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When their calls turned up nothing, Walker escorted Alex back to her office, then headed out to his truck.  Driving to Trivette's apartment, he tried to recall anything that might have caused his partner to miss his flight, but he came up empty.  At the apartment building, Walker used the spare key he carried on his ring to let himself into Trivette's apartment, closing the door behind him.

"Trivette?" he called.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The stillness in the apartment told him that the man wasn't there, but Walker roamed through each of the rooms, looking for any sign of a struggle, anything out of place.  There was nothing.  The apartment was clean and tidy, just like always.

In his partner's bedroom, Walker checked the closet.  Several hangers were empty and Trivette's soft-sided suitcase were missing.  He had definitely packed and left the apartment for his vacation.

 _So what happened between here and the airport?_ Walker wondered.

With a sigh, he walked through the rooms a second time.  In the kitchen he re-read the note hanging on the refrigerator – instructions for Walker about when and how to water the house plants, and the numbers for the vet and the woman who was dog-sitting Blue.  It was all perfectly ordinary.  There was nothing to suggest that Trivette was trying to leave him a clue, nothing unusual at all.

He opened the refrigerator door and checked inside.  All the perishables were gone.  Trivette definitely planned to be gone for ten days.  If not, Walker was sure that there'd be fresh vegetables and milk inside.

"Damn," he whispered softly.

He crossed to the short counter that separated the living room and the kitchen, picking up Trivette's spare set of car keys on a hunch.  Then, walking back to the door, he paused, looking back at the living room one last time.

"Where are you, partner?" he asked quietly, his brow wrinkling with worry.

Silence was his only reply.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

C.D. noticed the worry and concern on his friends' faces as soon as they stepped into the bar.  "Cordell?" he called in greeting.  "What's wrong?"

"It's Jimmy," Alex said, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar, chewing on her lower lip.

"Trouble in Jamaica already?" the older man asked, grinning.  The expression faded with the bearded Ranger's next words.

"He never got to Jamaica."

"But he's been plannin'—"

"He never made the flight," Cordell continued.  "Airport security's looking for his car now."

"What in tarnation?  Did you check the hospitals?" C.D. asked, concern deepening the creases on his weathered face.

Alex nodded.  "Hospitals, jails… the morgue," she concluded softly.

"How 'bout his apartment?"

"Clothes are missing, along with his bag," Walker said.  "The refrigerator's been cleaned out.  Blue's with her babysitter.  He definitely planned on leaving."

C.D. shook his head, a chill snaking down his spine and pooling deep in his gut.  "I've got a bad feeling in my bones, Cordell.  That boy's in trouble," he stated matter-of-factly.

Walker nodded.  "Somebody has him," he replied softly.

"But who?" Alex asked.  "As soon as I got back in my office I asked Trina to run a check on any recent releases, but she hasn't found anyone."

"I don't know," Walker replied, his gaze focused inward.  "But you can bet I'm going to find out."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After lunch, Walker returned to his office, skimming the short list of potential suspects Trina had left for him on his desk.  Most of the names triggered a flood memories for the Ranger, and his resolve hardened to find his partner.  But none of the individuals listed were the kind to try kidnapping a Texas Ranger.

Almost an hour later, the phone rang.  Walker snatched it up.  "Walker."

"Ranger Walker, this is Hal Jorgensen, I'm with airport security.  One of my people has located that gray Dodge Stealth you were looking for.  It's in one of the long-term lots."

"Which one?" Walker demanded.

"Green.  I have—"

"I'm on my way," Walker interrupted, then hung up without waiting for a reply.  Grabbing his hat, he headed out the door.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker parked his Dodge Ram behind the airport security car and climbed out.  Before he reached the young woman standing near the rear of the Stealth he knew it was Trivette's – ding in the right rear bumper, correct plate number.

"Ranger Walker?" she asked as he reached her.

He nodded.  "Find anything?"

"Nothing obvious, Ranger," she replied, watching him circle the car, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he visually checked the empty interior.  "I didn't want to do anything 'til you got here.  I haven't touched the car, and no one else has either, since I got here."

"Great.  Thanks," he said, walking to the rear of the car.  "Did you find any keys?"

"No, sir."

Walker fished into his pocket for the spare set of keys he'd picked up at Trivette's apartment.  Making sure not to touch the car, he carefully slid the key into the lock and opened the trunk.  In the otherwise empty space sat Trivette's travel bag and his car keys.

Sunlight glinted off something, and Walker leaned closer, finding his partner's ring.

"Damn it," he hissed softly.  _If Trivette left that behind, he's in trouble_.

The security guard watched Walker stalk back to his truck and call for an investigative unit, glad that she'd followed all the correct procedures.  There was no way she wanted the Ranger mad at her.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker paced alongside his Ram, waiting for the investigators to finish their work.  Eventually Randy Garcia stepped away from the rest of his team, joining the worried Ranger, who asked, "Find anything?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," the man sighed.  "We found plenty of fingerprints on the Stealth, and on the cars parked on either side, but I don't know if they'll be any help.  The ones on the keys you found inside the trunk might be more useful.  We also found some clothing fibers on the pavement and on the bumper.  Hairs on the pavement at the rear of the car, too, but not much else."  Running a hand over his military-cut short black hair, he added, "The evidence vacuum might give us something more, but it'll take some time to sort through it.  Oh, and we have a partial shoe print in the dust, but it's pretty smudged."

"Yeah, I saw that.  Probably Trivette's."

Garcia shrugged.  "Wish I had better news, Walker.  If Trivette was grabbed, the people who did it were very professional."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Walker replied.  "Send me your report as soon as you can.  Oh, and once that ring's checked, I'd like that back."

"Will do," Garcia replied, heading back to his team as they bagged and photographed the last of their finds.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker sat at his desk, scowling again at the list of recent releases Trina had turned up.  There was nothing.  Not a damned thing.  No one who could do this was out.  No one had escaped.

It was like Trivette had just vanished.

Walker shook his head.  That was impossible.  Somebody, somewhere, had seen _something_.

But whoever had his partner had grabbed him in the long-term parking lot.  It was very possible that no one had witnessed the event.  The lots were huge, scattered, and monitored by only occasional in-car patrols.  There were uniformed officers posted at the site now, questioning people as they retrieved their cars on the off-chance that they might have seen something, but the older Ranger didn't put much stock in the officers turning up any useful information.

He leaned back in his chair, absently turning Trivette's football over in his hands.  _Okay, once they had Trivette, then what?_ he asked himself.

 _They moved him, or kept him here_ , were the two obvious answers that sprang to mind.

But his gut was telling him Trivette wasn't in Texas.  They had taken him somewhere else.

_Which means they moved him from the lot to someplace else at the airport, if they flew him out.  Or they drove out with him…_

Leaning forward, he set the football down on his desk and punched out the now-memorized number for airport security.  Asking to be transferred to Carl Hernandez, the department head, he waited.

"Carl, it's Walker," the Ranger greeted him when Hernandez picked up, then immediately laid out everything he wanted.

Hernandez listened in silence until Walker was finished, then replied, "Okay, I can do that, but it's going to take me some time.  Why don't you drop by in the morning, say around eight?"

"I'll be there," Walker replied, then dropped the receiver back in its cradle.  He grabbed up the football again and leaned back in his chair.

 _Where are you, partner?_ he asked silently, squeezing the football.

The APB had turned up nothing.  The lab had nothing to report yet.  Nothing, nothing, nothing… he was getting damned tired of nothing.  He slammed the football against the top of his desk, the other Rangers in the room jumping at their desks.

"Sorry," he said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Consciousness returned like a sharp slap.  Trivette's body jerked and he sat up with a soft groan.  His mind was much clearer, but the dim light made it hard for him to immediately determine where he was.  However, the low grinding-growl of an old truck engine told him that he was on the move.

Scooting around, he leaned back against the side of the truck and waited for his eyes to adjust.  When they did, he realized that there were three shotguns trained on him, each held by a small, wiry man with crime-hardened eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice more calm and confident than he felt.

One of the men leaned forward and rapped the butt of his shotgun on the truck bed threateningly.  He looked Hispanic or Native, his skin dark brown, his hair and eyes black.

"I said, where am I?" Trivette asked again, his tone more demanding as he noticed the other people sitting in the truck bed with him.  He made a quick assessment, deciding that they were prisoners, too – two men, three women, and a young girl who looked no more than nine or ten.  They all sat huddled along the back of the truck cab, or along the sides, their heads bowed, gazes averted.

One of the three guards grinned, then he spoke rapidly to his companions in a language Trivette didn't understand.  _Great_ , he thought.  _I don't think I'm in Texas anymore, Toto_.

Another one of the guards hefted his shotgun, pointing it at Trivette's head.  "No talk," he spat in heavily accented, broken English.

Jimmy lifted his hands, palms out in a gesture of capitulation.  "Okay," he said.  "Just take it easy."

The guard let the shotgun drop slightly.

Relaxing against the truck, the Ranger silently prayed that this was all a bad dream, and he was actually winging his way to Jamaica.  But he knew that wasn't the case, and a cold chill snaked down his back and settled in his guts.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Trivette wasn't sure how long he rode in the back of the old, canvas-sided truck, but the regular popping in his ears told him that they had been climbing steadily in elevation for most of the trip.  He tried to steal a look past the loose tarp-flap that covered the rear of the truck, but all he could see was the blur of verdant green foliage, and red dust kicked up by the truck's tires.

_Definitely not Texas…_

Gears ground and the truck slowed before it banked into a long, sharp turn.  When the driver was back on a straight section of road again, the truck slowed down to a crawl.

"What's going on?" Trivette asked, moving to stand.  One of his guards pushed to his feet, snapping more of the unintelligible words at the Ranger.  The man's meaning was clear, and Jimmy sat back down to wait.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A few minutes later the truck rolled to a compete stop.  Trivette listened to the muffled exchange taking place between the driver and someone else, all of it in Spanish, then the truck lurched forward, continuing on slowly for several more minutes before grinding to a second stop.  Immediately the guards were on their feet, yelling at the prisoners.

The men and women struggled to their feet, one woman hugging the little girl to her hip while the guards grabbed them, jerking them to the rear of the truck.

Someone outside flipped open the canvas flaps, and Jimmy squinted against the bright glare that filled the back of the truck.  The guards herded all of the

passengers out, pushing them along with the butts of their weapons.  Trivette hopped down from the truck-bed last and glanced around.  He was in the middle of a compound that looked like it had been carved out of profuse green jungle.  The air was hot, humid, and saturated with a variety of scents he couldn't begin to identify. Six wooden buildings were scattered across the compound in no particular order, and six long metal Quonset huts were positioned near the wooden shacks.  Here and there small metal boxes sat out in the sun.  Not far away there were several small fields, some cultivated, others fallow.  He could also see several trails leading into the jungle beyond the fence that circled what he could see of the entire compound.

More guards surrounded them as Trivette noted that the fence was electrified and topped by coils of razor wire.  He took a deep breath.  _Oh, this is bad, real bad, Toto_.  _Better hope the wizard doesn't want me dead._

A slight commotion broke out among the guards as a black BMW drove up and stopped, sending up a small plume of red dust into the humidity thick air, but it quickly settled.  Two of the guards quickly ran over and opened the passenger doors.  Trivette recognized Harris as he and another man climbed out and walked over to join the huddled group of prisoners.

Harris pointed to Trivette and the second man barked a command to the guards.  The tallest of them stepped forward, grabbing the Ranger by the arm and dragging him over to the two men, then shoved him forward.

"What's going on here?" Jimmy demanded as he caught his balance and straightened.  Harris' hungry, narrowed-eyed expression told the Ranger he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I told you, boy, I brought you t' Hell," Harris smirked.  "I hope you enjoy your stay, which will last the rest of your pathetic, _short_ life."  With a satisfied laugh he turned and climbed back into the car, pulling the door closed with a bang.

The second man, a tall and distinguished-looking Latino, watched Harris settle into the backseat of the BMW, then turned to face the Ranger.  Trivette guessed that he was in his early fifties from the silver that streaked his otherwise black hair. The man's eyes were pale brown, his expression and bearing one of unquestioned authority.

 _Hello, Mr. Wizard_ , Jimmy greeted silently.

The man flashed Trivette a brief smile.  "Welcome to the—"  He stopped, titling his head to the side and tapping his lower lip with his fingers.  "Oh, how do you say it?  The— The House of the Devil," he concluded.

"Look," Trivette started, "I don't know who you think you are, but—"

The man help up his hand.  "Who I am is no concern for you," he snapped.  "But I know who you are, Ranger James Trivette."  He smiled again.  "But now, here, you are… nobody."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed as the man turned to leave.  "Wait a damned minute!" he snarled, his patience finally coming to an end.  "I'm a Texas Ranger.  You can't do this."

Without bothering to look back, the man raised his hand, snapping his fingers.  The tall guard reached out and grabbed Trivette by the shoulder, keeping him from following the Latino.  But Jimmy twisted out of the guard's grip and took a step toward the BMW.

He never saw the blow coming that knocked him to his knees.  The guard followed up with a swift kick to Trivette's ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

"You listen," the tall-man growled in thickly accented Spanish.  "No make trouble for Senõr Sierra; you live.  Make me trouble, you die.  _Comprende_?"

Trivette sucked in a half-breath.  "Look–"

"No talking!" the man snapped, kicking the Ranger again.

Trivette curled into a ball, still struggling to get his wind back.  A third kick followed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Less than an hour later Trivette sat on a narrow cot, staring at the tattered blanket that sat, folded up at the foot of the bed.  His clothes had been taken away and in their place he wore the same dingy tan coveralls that the rest of the men and women in the Quonset barracks wore.  They also all wore sandals made from rough hemp rope and old tire-treads.  Only a few of the youngest children in the barracks wore ragged "civilian" clothes.

His head throbbing, his ribs and kidneys aching, Trivette studied the inside of the building.  Chains, mounted into thick beams of wood that were bolted to the side of the building with sturdy screws, were attached to ankle shackles that each prisoner wore.  He and the others had about six feet of freedom, just enough to reach the end of their cots.  Even the children were manacled.

Trivette stared at the small boy who occupied the cot next to his.  He couldn't be more than ten, but his thin frame and large, sad eyes made him appear much older.  He reminded the Ranger of the starving, war-haunted children he'd seen on the news from Somalia.  Sitting on the cot next to the boy was a frail-looking young woman.  At least he thought she was young; her sunken cheeks and eyes made it hard to be sure.  In any case, he had heard the boy call her " _madre_ ".  And on the woman's other side was a little girl, younger than the boy by a year or two.

Two bare lightbulbs hung from wires at regular intervals, casting a thin yellow light into the large space.  He noticed the small wooden boxes that sat at the end of each bunk, storage spaces for any personal belongings, he guessed, although none of the boxes were locked.  But then, they wouldn't have to be.  Only the occupant of the cot could reach his or her box, thanks to the shackles.

He turned his attention to the other people in the Quonset hut, studying them more carefully.  He could see no wedding rings, or crucifixes, or earrings.  They had been stripped of everything.  Glancing around, Trivette noted that some of the people were Latinos, although he was sure that most of them were indigenous people of some kind.  However, two other black men were chained near the single door that led into the barracks.

"Hey," Jimmy called to them.

Both men looked up, as did everyone else.

Making eye contact with the two blacks, Trivette asked, "Do you speak English?"

The confusion on the two men's faces told Trivette that they didn't understand him.  "Damn," he sighed softly.

"You Americano?" a soft accented voice asked.

Trivette turned back, looking into the sad brown eyes of the Hispanic woman. The boy's mother.  "Yes," he said.  "Do you understand English?"

" _Un po –_ a little, _si_ ," she replied with a small shrug.

"Where are we?"

"Colombia," she replied in a near-whisper, her gaze darting around to see if any of the other prisoners disapproved and might report her.

 _Colombia?_ Jimmy thought, looking around the barracks again.  _Oh, man…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Emerging from the kitchen, C.D. carried a cup of coffee and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich over to Walker, who sat at the bar, staring at a ring he held pinched between two fingers.  With another hour to go before he opened for the evening, the place was empty except for them.

The Ranger glanced up, meeting C.D.'s concerned gaze when he set the plate and cup down.

"Cordell, you need to eat," the older man encouraged, noting that it was Jimmy's ring.  He felt his gut begin to burn.  If anyone had hurt Jimmy…

The last thing Walker wanted was food or more coffee, but he understood C.D.'s need to feel useful.  "Thanks."

The retired Ranger leaned over the bar.  "Damn it, Cordell, why hasn't somethin' turned up?  Them lab boys—"

The bearded Ranger shook his head, cutting C.D. off.  But he didn't have a good answer for the man.  "We're doing everything we can," he finally said, pocketing the ring.

"Oh, I know that, son," C.D. replied kindly.  "I just feel 'bout as useful as a purse on a snake."

The image prompted a slight smile from Walker.  "The captain talked to the FBI.  Agent Mills is doing everything he can from his end, but he doesn't have much to work with."

C.D. nodded.  "He's a good man.  If he can help, he will."

Both men looked up when Alex entered and made a beeline for them.  "Anything?" she asked hopefully.

Walker shook his head, then reached for his coffee cup, needing something to distract him.

Alex wrapped one arm around his shoulders, then gave him a hug.  "We will find him," she said softly next to his ear.

He nodded, unable to talk past the hard lump in his throat.  He would find Trivette, he knew that much for a fact.  One way or the other, he'd find him.  The question now was, could he find him in time?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Four

 

The next morning Trivette sat on the ground outside his barracks with the rest of the prisoners.  Several older women moved among them, handing out wooden bowls half-full of a pasty-white gruel.  He wrinkled his nose in response to the sour odor that rose from the steaming, lumpy surface and shook his head.  The woman shoved the bowl at him a second time, and he accepted it with a doubtful expression.  All around him the rest of the prisoners were dipping their fingers into their bowls and scooping the mash hungrily into their mouths.

Trivette dipped the tip of one finger into his bowl and tried a taste.  He coughed, choked and spat out the rest.  "Oh, man," he moaned.  It was inedible.

Shaking his head, he glanced around at the others, most of whom had already emptied their bowls.  The young boy, his next door bunkmate, sat next to Jimmy and glanced from his empty bowl to the Ranger's full one.  Unable to ignore the hungry look in the child's eyes, the Ranger handed the boy his bowl and accepted the child's empty one in return.

Watching the boy share the gruel with his sister, both of them bolting down the meal – he refused to consider it food – before anyone took it away from them, Trivette contemplated what the child could have possibly done to land him in the prison.  The woman who had spoken to him the night before, Rosa, had refused to say why she and the boy were there.  Looking in her direction, he saw her smile her thanks to him for the children's extra meal.  He nodded in reply.

Before long, the old women returned, gathering up the empty bowls.  They were accompanied by four guards armed with shotguns and sidearms.  Trivette watched as one of the men sauntered through the seated prisoners, his gaze sweeping over the men, women and children like they were nothing more than rocks.  He eventually paused behind a young woman the Ranger guessed was in her late teens.

Reaching out, the guard grabbed the girl's long ponytail, dragging her up to her feet.  She squealed softly, but fear kept her from fighting back as the man shoved his hand down the front of her coveralls and groped her breasts.  The rest of the prisoners looked away, unable or unwilling to help the girl.

"Hey," Trivette snapped, anger flaring as the guard's free hand cupped the girl's butt.  He scrambled to his feet.  "Leave her alone," he growled.

The guard ignored the Ranger, jerking the girl around and kissing her while his companions watched and laughed.

Talking three long strides, Trivette grabbed the guard and pulled him away from the girl.  She dropped to the ground, pressing her face into the lap of an older woman, who glared up at the guard, but remained silent.

The three remaining guards closed on Trivette, their shotguns raised.  The Ranger took a step back, his hands coming up to placate them.  "Look, just leave her alone," he said.  "She's just a kid.  You—"

The guard who had been interrupted stepped up to Trivette, snarling something unintelligible before he punched the Ranger in the mid-section, driving the wind from his lungs.  Jimmy staggered, but remained on his feet, his black eyes flashing.  But before he could fight back, two more of the men were on him, beating him with the butts of their shotguns, driving him to the ground.

The rest of the prisoners scrambled out of the way, none attempting to help the Ranger as he curled into a ball, his arms over his head to protect himself.  He absorbed several more blows before one of the guards called off the attack.  Then hands pulled him to his feet and he was half-carried, half-dragged to one of the small metal boxes that dotted the compound.

The door was pulled open, and Trivette forced inside.  They slammed the door shut and he heard a padlock snapped into place.  The guards stalked back to the huddled group of prisoners, the one man digging through the bodies until he found the girl again.  He dragged her off despite her pleading wails.

Trivette watched through the small circular holes, anger and frustration mounting as the man proceeded to rape the girl in full sight of the rest of the prisoners.

 _A lesson_ , he realized.  _To prove they can do whatever they want, whenever they want_.

He forced himself to close his eyes, but he couldn't shut out the girl's screams.  Tears built, seeping out and running down his face.  It wasn't right, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Suddenly, the aches and pains from the beatings he'd sustained swelled, nearly overwhelming him.  He rode the waves of torment out, then drew in a deep breath that burned his lungs.  It was then that he realized he was in a sweat box.

"Oh, man," he moaned softly.  "This is like a bad, _bad_ movie."

The four by three foot space made it impossible for him to sit or lie down, so he opted to curl up on one side, and keeping his eyes shut, tried to ignore the continuing screams as the other guards took their turn with the girl.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting in Carl Hernandez's office, Walker stared at the videotaped images as they spun out frame by frame by frame; the same videos he had requested the day before.  After four hours he still hadn't found anything, and there was more than seven hours of tape left to go.  He sighed heavily and reached for the phone.  He had to get someone else working on these.

Hernandez entered the room; a big man with a friendly face and graying brown hair.  "Find anything?" he asked.

"No."  The Ranger rubbed his eyes.  "I called and asked for two officers to be sent over to view the rest."

"I'll have one of my people come in to help, too."

"I appreciate that, Carl," he said, standing.

"Oh, and here's the list you asked for – all departing flights for the day Trivette disappeared."

Walker nodded as he accepted the print out, automatically skimming it.  There were over a hundred possibilities.  He felt the cold hand of pessimism squeeze in his heart.

"Oh, and I found those tickets you wanted.  They were bagged and sent to recycling, but I think we have them all."

Walker looked up at Hernandez.  "Thanks, Carl, I owe you one.  I'll get someone over here to get started on those right away.  Make sure they're not handled directly."

"Right.  I have my best man on it, so they should be safe until your people get here."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker was haunted by an increasing sense of doom as he drove from the airport to his partner's apartment.  The sun would rise again tomorrow and Trivette was in trouble, he knew both facts with equal certainty.  Pulling into Trivette's parking space, he climbed out of the Ram and stalked into the apartment building.

Standing outside Trivette's door, he hesitated.  He'd already searched the man's apartment once and found nothing out of the ordinary.  Still, he had to do something.  Slipping the key into the lock, he turned it and stepped inside.  Closing the door, he glanced around.  Nothing had changed.  The apartment still sang "James Trivette" – the books that never failed to amaze Walker due to their number and variety, the football mementos, the African knickknacks.  It was an eclectic mix that reflected the many facets of his partner.

The air in the apartment was cool, the heater turned off, and Walker couldn't stop the nervous chill that snaked down his spine and left his gut feeling cold, his skin clammy.  With a heavy sigh, he set to work, moving from the kitchen to the living room to the bedroom and bath.  Nothing was left untouched, and when he was done the bearded Ranger had a better appreciation for his partner's clothing and reading choices, but he was no closer to understanding who had abducted Trivette than when he'd started.

 _There has to be something_ , he fumed silently, reaching up to check and make sure that the ring was still in his pocket.  It was, but it provided no more clues than the empty apartment.

Standing in the living room, he twirled the ring slowly through his fingers.  He knew some might find it odd that he carried his missing partner's college ring around, but at the moment it was the only tangible link to his friend he could find.  He'd be more than happy to personally return it to Trivette, just as soon as he possibly could.  But he had to find the man first…

With a softly muttered curse, he stalked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Alex noted the defeated expression on Walker's face as soon as she walked into the Ranger's office.  The room was unusually quiet, the other Rangers respecting Walker's mood.  Crossing to his desk, she tried to look as positive as she could.

"Hi," she said in greeting.

A soft grunt was his only reply.

Alex rested on the edge of the desk.  "I take it you haven't found anything?"

Walker leaned back and shook his head.  "Nothing.  I checked his apartment again… nothing, just like the first time.  And so far they haven't found anything on the airport surveillance tapes either."

Alex sighed softly, then glanced over at Trivette's empty desk.  Her eyes widened slightly.  "Have you checked his computer?"

Walker sat up straight in his chair, then he was up and moving to the machine on his partner's desk.  He motioned to Alex, who walked over and sat down in Trivette's chair.  She pushed the power button and they waited together as the computer booted up to the welcome screen.

"Maybe we can check his e-mail," Alex said.

Walker nodded.  "Go ahead."

She grinned briefly and clicked on the icon.  Some day Walker would catch up to the twentieth century, hopefully before the twenty-first.

The screen asked for a password and she looked up at Walker.  "Any ideas?"

He shrugged.  "Try 'football'."

Twenty minutes later, after trying every possible football-related variation they could come up with they gave up.

"What else could it be?" Alex asked.

Walker thought a moment, the ghost of a smile finally lifting the corners of his mouth.  "Try Lone Ranger."

After a few tries she found the right variation – LnRngr.

However, checking Trivette's e-mail turned up nothing out of the ordinary.

Alex sighed heavily.  "I was hoping there might be something here…"

Walker's shoulders sagged.

Staring at the screen Alex noticed the small icon for Trivette's address book.  Leaning forward, she grabbed the mouse and moved the pointer to the icon and clicked.  The address book opened and she scrolled through the names, while Walker stared over her shoulder.

"There!" Alex said, pointing at the screen.

"What?" Walker asked.

"Dom," Alex said.  "Maybe she can help."

Walker hesitated.  Trivette's relationship with the woman was something he didn't completely understand.  Nor did he really trust the woman, who he was sure was some kind of federal agent, but not from any organization he'd ever worked with.

"I don't know—"

"She can help us," Alex interrupted stubbornly.  "I know she can."

Walker thought a moment, then sighed heavily and nodded.  "At this point I'll take any help I can get."

Using the address listed under Dom's name, Alex sent the message Walker dictated.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Dom walked into the large living room of the house she was currently using only to find her laptop beeping softly on the coffee table.  "Mail already?" she asked the machine, walking over to drop down on the couch next to it.  "I just cleared you out an hour ago," she sighed.  "Who called this progress?"

Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension of the workout that she'd just completed, the special operations operative leaned forward and tapped the key that retrieved her waiting mail.

 

> Hello, Dom.  You have one message.

 

 _Thanks, KARL_.  _Show me_.

 

> From: James Trivette.  Message follows. . .

 

This is Walker.  Trivette is missing.  No leads.  Could use a hand.  Contact me ASAP.

 

A cold chill played between Dom's shoulder blades as she quickly typed in her response.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting at Trivette's desk, Walker stared at the computer screen, waiting for a reply.  As much as he hated to admit it, he needed help to find Trivette, and this woman was the best he could hope for.  She had resources he could never access.

The computer beeped and the mail flag appeared.  Walker leaned forward, clumsily using the mouse to open the message:   _Walker, send whatever information you have.  I will start ASAP.  Dom_

He sighed, feeling a little of the weight he was carrying lift.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Trivette wasn't sure how long they left him in the sweatbox, but it quickly became unbearably hot and stuffy in the too-small space.  He forced himself to keep his eyes closed, focusing on memories that kept him from seeing the space shrink.  When the guards finally dragged him out, he was wet with perspiration and his legs were rubbery.  Two men had to hold him up until his legs could finally support his weight again, then he was escorted to one of the fallow fields and put to work breaking up dirt clods.

The guards pushed him and the other prisoners constantly until the sun began to set.  At dusk they were gathered up and herded back to the barracks.

Shackle attached to one ankle, each of the prisoners sat down on the floor along the barracks wall, waiting as the old women from the morning returned, handing out bowls of watery stew, chunks of bread and old, used plastic liter bottles full of water.

Trivette looked up as one of the women passed him by, a guard on her heels.

"Uh, excuse me," he called hoarsely after her.  "You missed—"

"Shut up," another guard snarled, kicking Trivette's foot.

"But—"

The guard backhanded Trivette, snapping his head back against the wood wall.

His eyes blazing, the Ranger watched while the rest of the prisoners were fed.

The women left, then the guards, and Jimmy watched the people around him gobble up their food while his stomach grumbled unhappily.  But it was the water he really wanted.  His time in the box had severely dehydrated him, leaving his head hurting and his tongue thick.

Sighing, Trivette leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.  _Walker, I hope you're looking for me, partner_ , he thought.  _This isn't what I had in mind for my vacation_.

Several minutes later someone nudged his shoulder.  Jimmy opened his eyes. The young boy, chained to the wall next to him, handed the Ranger what was left of his water.

He smiled at the child.  "You sure?"

"Wa-er."

"Yes, water, thank you," Jimmy replied, accepting the bottle and draining the contents in several long gulps.  This time his eyes closed in pure pleasure as the cool liquid soothed his throat.

"What's your name?" he asked when he finished.

Rosa spoke softly to the boy and he smiled and said, "Miguel."  She nodded at the little girl and added, "Maria."

"Pleased to meet you, Miguel.  Maria."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Five

 

Walker's phone rang for the first time that morning and he snatched it up, hoping it was good news.  "Walker."

"It's Dom.  Let me guess: he went on vacation and disappeared?"

"Yeah," the Ranger confirmed sheepishly.  "He did."

There was a pause.  "Damn, Walker, and I thought I was just being a smart ass.  Tell me what you know; the reports you e-mailed me were pretty vague.  But I did check to see if we had any keyhole satellite images available.  I'm afraid there weren't any."

It didn't take the Ranger long to pass along the little concrete information he had.

"Okay," Dom said when he finished.  "I'll keep things rolling on my end and get back to you as soon as I have something.  Let me give you a number so you can fax me whatever comes in, too."

Walker picked up a pen and copied down the number.  "Dom," he said, hesitating slightly before he concluded, "I…  I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome," was the amused if worried reply.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Near lunchtime, Walker leaned back in his chair, a wave of despair washing over him.  Nothing.  He still had nothing.  And his partner was still missing.  Around him the other Rangers went about their various tasks, occasionally casting him a worried or concerned glance.

The bearded Ranger looked over at the door when it opened, hoping something had finally broken.

C.D. entered and paced straight over to join him.  "Any news?" the older man asked.

Walker shook his head, already hating the question.  "The video surveillance tapes from the airport didn't turn up a thing."  He sighed heavily.  He was rapidly running out of possibilities.

"He can't just disappear, Cordell," C.D. stated.

"I know, but—"  The remainder of Walker's comment was cut short when the door burst open and a young sheriff's deputy rushed in, a smile on her face.  "Ranger Walker, you were right!"

C.D. looked from the pretty deputy to Cordell.  "What's goin' on?"

A slight smile lifted the corners of Walker's lips.  "The ticket?" he asked the deputy.

She nodded, grinning.

"Will somebody _please_ tell me what in blue hades is goin' on?"

The deputy turned to C.D.  "Ranger Walker thought we might be able to lift a print from the ticket the perp used to get out of the airport's long term lot.  We had several deputies and a bunch of explorers go though all the stubs from the day Ranger Trivette went missing—"

"Good Lord!" C.D. exclaimed.  "There had t' be—"

" _Lots_ ," the deputy agreed, interrupting.  "But we were looking specifically for tickets that timed out under an hour," she added.  "It's a good thing the airport bagged those tickets so they could be recycled, or they'd've been long gone."

"How many?" Walker asked.

"Three," she replied, "and the lab guys got clear prints off all of them.  They're being run right now to see if we can find a match."

Walker nodded, his lips pressing into a fine line.  This was the break he'd been waiting for.  He could feel it.

 _Hang in there, partner_ , he thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Trivette tried to keep a low profile as he worked alongside the other prisoners, preparing the field for cultivation.  But thanks to his earlier outbursts, the guards were keeping a wary eye on him as he broke up the hard clods of dirt.  As inconspicuously as he could, he studied other guards and prisoners as they entered and left the wooden buildings, carrying various armloads of materials.  Along the fence he could see heat mirages escaping from short chimneys, the shimmering air blurring the bright green of the jungle foliage behind it.

 _Underground ovens_ , he concluded.  _What in the world—?_

 _Drugs_ , he realized.

 _Oh, man, I'm stuck down here helping the cartel produce cocaine!_   He sighed heavily, his motions slowing slightly as he grumbled to himself.

A guard was immediately on him, beating him with a short leather strap.  "Work!  Go fast!  Work!"

"All right, all right!" Trivette snapped, tucking his shoulder up and dipping his head while his arm came up to block the stinging blows while he rapidly pounded his too-short spade against the ground with his other hand.

The guard spat something in Spanish that Trivette couldn't translate, but he understood the meaning just fine.  With a softly muttered curse, he picked up the pace, his jaw muscles twitching from frustration.

That frustration quickly shifted to rage when the guard moved next to Miguel, bringing the strap down across the boy's back with savage fury.

Miguel squealed, dropping into a squat, his arms wrapped protectively over his head while he cried something in high-pitched Spanish.

"Hey!" Jimmy cried.  "Lay off, man, he's just a kid!"

The guard turned, black eyes narrowing.  Too late Trivette realized that he couldn't protect the boy any better than he had the young woman who was raped.

A rain of blows from leather straps and shotgun butts drove the Ranger to the ground, where the guards took turns kicking and striking.  How long the ordeal lasted, Trivette wasn't sure, the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness carried him away from the nightmare.

When he woke, Jimmy found himself back in the cramped sweatbox, but instead of being baked in the small metal oven, he was shivering.  Through the small holes he could see the stars.

"Great," he sighed softly.

_At least I survived another day in paradise…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker sat, staring at the file on at least one of the men who had kidnapped Trivette.  Gordon Louis Beems.  His arrest record was relatively short, in the United States, where he'd been convicted of armed robbery, ethnic intimidation and assault.  But his international crimes ranged from suspected assassinations to terrorism.

At least he was one step closer to Trivette.

An APB had been issued for Beems in Texas and the rest of the country.  And, reaching for the phone, the bearded Ranger faxed the information on the man to Agent Mills and to Dom, hoping that they might be able to help track Beems down.

That done, Walker stood and headed for his truck.  There was nothing more he could do tonight.  It was in the hands of a power greater than him now.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Six

 

Roosters crowed, breaking through the fog in Trivette's mind.  He forced his eyes open.  The first glow of dawn streaked the horizon, brushing the sky an odd lavender hue.  The camp was still quiet except for the old women, who worked silently around three open-air fires.  Large metal pots were suspended over the crackling flames and they were busy, pouring in the cornmeal and stirring.

His stomach rumbled in protest.  He was hungry, but the sour mush still threatened to make him sick every time he tried to eat it.  Today he'd have no choice.  He was lightheaded, the lack of food and water taking their toll.  Keeping his strength up was an absolute necessity.  He had to be ready to travel when rescue came.

With a soft moan, he tried to stretch his cramped muscles, but there was little he could do to ease the deep ache that wrapped around his bones and squeezed.  He was tired, cold, hungry, thirsty, dirty and one hundred percent pissed-off at Mr. Neil Harris.  It wasn't _his_ fault the man's sons had nearly killed Walker.  Toby and Cody got what they'd deserved – prison.  What happened after they got there was out of his hands.  It was their actions, their fault that they had ended up there to begin with.

But Neil Harris didn't see it that way.  And Jimmy was paying a high price for that difference of opinion.

 _Come on, Walker, what's taking so long, huh?_ he silently asked his absent partner.

 _Yeah, right, like he's got anything to work with_ , he argued with himself.

 _Maybe he'll do some of those Cherokee hocus-pocus things and have a vision_ , was the optimist's reply.

 _Oh, yeah, I can see it now.  A vision of a big map with a tiny arrow that's labeled, Trivette is here!_ was the pessimist's deriding rebuttal.

He sighed and shook his head slightly.  No, it was going to be good old-fashioned detective work that saved his sorry ass in the end, of that he was sure.  Someone, somewhere had to have been careless.  Mistakes happen, and just one mistake was all Walker would need.

 _I'd just appreciate it if you'd speed things up a little_ , he told the missing Ranger.

Across the compound he watched as three of the guards stalked toward his sweatbox.  _Good thing, too,_ he thought.  _I doubt that I'm going to be able to stand up this morning_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker burst into the office for Company B, his eyes flashing and his expression grim.  Other Rangers scrambled to get out of his way, a path parting for him with almost biblical swiftness.

Alex, who had been sitting in Walker's chair, waiting for him, looked up from a case file she'd been reading.  Noting the man's expression, she quickly stood, asking, "What's wrong?" as soon as he reached the desk.

"Beems," the bearded Ranger growled, forcing his fingers to uncurl from tightly clenched fists.

Blue eyes rounded in surprise.  "They've found him?"

Walker nodded.  "Around two this morning.  El Paso airport.  They flew him back to Dallas this morning."

Alex nodded, realizing what must have happened.  "And he's refusing to talk," she stated.

"Not a word," he admitted, dropping into his chair.  "All he'd say was that whoever's got Trivette scares him a lot more than we do.  He knows, Alex.  He knows where Trivette is, or he knows who does know."

Her face paled.  "Oh, Walker," she said softly.  "What can we do now?"

"I left Goss and Needleson working on him.  Maybe he'll change his mind."  The redheaded Ranger's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "If he doesn't–"

"Cordell, you can't.  You have to do this by the book," Alex rebuked.  "If you– Well, he could get a good lawyer and walk."

Walker huffed.  "I know, Alex.  I know.  It's just—"

"I know, too," she interrupted, moving around to stand behind him.  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a show of support, she said, "I know, too.  He'll tell us.  He has to."

"I hope you're right," Walker replied, the pain and despondency in his voice making her eyes sting.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Walker."

Sitting at the bar in C.D.'s, the Ranger looked up from his half-empty cup of coffee, his eyes rounding slightly.  "Dom?" he said, surprised that she had arrived so quickly.

He watched the woman cross C.D.'s to join him.  Her exotic beauty never failed to surprise him, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear that she didn't age.  The government agent still looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties, although he knew that she had to be much older than that.  She had an athlete's body, but she moved like a dancer – graceful and fluid.  Her thick, long black hair was pulled back in the familiar single braid, the tip brushing along her belt as she walked.  She was dressed in pale blue loose-fitting jeans and a light olive-colored cotton shirt.  He recognized the state of the art hiking boots she wore as the same brand that Trivette had coveted a couple of months earlier, but they were well out  of his price range.

And then there were her eyes.  He found himself staring at the woman's almond-shaped, pale silver eyes, trying to guess who was really behind that ethnically indecipherable face.  Today those uncanny cool eyes sparked with excitement and determination.  She had an answer for him that much he could tell, and for the first time in four days he felt like things were beginning to really move.

"Glad you came," he greeted as she slid onto the stool beside him.

"I have a plane waiting," she replied, forgoing any welcome.  "Let's go."

"But—"

"I already cleared everything with your captain, and Alex," she added with a slight grin.  "I have everything you'll need waiting on-board."

He was about to protest, unused to not being in charge, but he didn't.  She wanted Trivette back as much as he did, and she'd just taken over the operation.  With an effort he nodded.

Dom was off the stool and already to the door before he could call C.D. out from the kitchen and tell him that he was leaving.

"Be careful, Cordell," the older man cautioned, eyeing Dom with more than a little suspicion.  After a lifetime, the retired Ranger still found it difficult to trust a Fed, especially a spook.

"I'll call when we know something," Walker promised.  "Take care of Alex for me, okay?"

C.D. nodded.  "Sure as the sun rises."

Walker headed after Dom, half-afraid that she might just leave him behind.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

As soon as he stepped into the small cooperate jet, the plane was moving.  Dom secured the door then led Walker into what would otherwise look like a well-appointed living room in some upscale subdivision.  She gestured for him to sit on the soft black-leather sofa, and he did.

"I take it Beem tripped some kind of alarm for you?" he asked as Dom took a seat on the thickly carpeted floor at the end of a highly polished teak coffee table.

She opened the laptop computer that sat on the low table, saying, "No, not Beem.  But when I ran a check on all Beem's known associates I found a name I am familiar with – Neponuceno Hidalgo."

Walker shook his head, watching as her fingers flew across the keyboard.  He leaned back, waiting while she worked and the plane lifted off.  When they leveled out he continued.  "Where're we going?"

"Maracaibo, Columbia."

"I hate to ask—"

Dom looked up.  "That's the center of Hidalgo's operations in Colombia.  We'll land there, just like Jimmy did, but I doubt they're keeping him in the city.  Hidalgo has a bunch of labor camps scattered around the jungle."

"What makes you think this Hidalgo has Trivette?" Walker asked, his tone making it clear that he wasn't in the mood to play twenty questions.

Dom sighed softly, moving the laptop around so Walker could see the screen. "Okay, here's what happened.  You sent me Beem's name, and I ran that for all-knows.  Hidalgo's name popped up – we've been trying to put him out of business for a couple of years.  Then I tapped into your computer system and had a friend of mine who's an expert in electronic forensics run all the names, phone records, bank transactions, whatever, for Hidalgo and the folks in your case files.  He turned up an association between Hidalgo and a Texan you've run into:  Neil Harris."

Walker frowned.  "Harris?  Harris," he nodded.  "The two sons."

"Yep.  Did you know that Cody Harris died in prison?"

"When?"

"Not long ago.  And from the records I saw, it looks like Toby Harris is a _very_ popular young man among the population, if you get my drift.  And I'd be willing to guess that he's not dealing with his new-found popularity very well.  Daddy's pulling out all the stops to get Junior out as quickly as possible."

"Grabbing Trivette isn't going to change the facts in the case," Walker pointed out.

"No, but it might give daddy a helluva sense of satisfaction," Dom suggested.

"Revenge," Walker hissed.  "Harris grabbed Trivette for revenge?"

Dom nodded.  "That would be my guess.  He's not a very creative personality from what I can find, but he does seem to be a loyal, doting father.  Harris is also the co-owner of a food conglomerate that imports fruits from South America.  Hidalgo's his business counterpart in Colombia.  But we've suspected that Hidalgo might be shipping more than just fruit to the States.  No one's investigating Harris, yet.  The usual level of their business relations doesn't make their relationship obvious, but now that they're more aware of it—"

"But—"

Dom held up a hand, continuing, "On the surface this isn't enough to make the trip; I know that.  But my friend did a little additional digging, to see if we could find something suggestive.  He compared the phone records for Harris and Hidalgo, and guess what?"

"They talked."

"Several times, in fact, on each of the three days before Jimmy disappeared. Then their contact stopped.  But Harris' credit card turned up in Maracaibo at one of the nicer hotels that cater to an American clientele the day Jimmy disappeared.  He was back in Dallas using his card for lunch the following day."

Walker leaned back, his expression thoughtful.  "Harris brought Trivette to Colombia and turned him over to Hidalgo."

Dom nodded.  "It sure looks that way."

"Why?" the Ranger asked.  "Why not just kill him?"

"I'd guess that he wants Jimmy to suffer the way his sons have, which means—"

"Harris plans for him to die."

Dom nodded.  "And it's not going to be fast, or pleasant."

"But you said Hidalgo has several of these camps."

Another nod.  "Some of them we suspect are for drug manufacturing – the one's that my associates are most interested in, that is.  And some are just labor camps where Hidalgo sends his enemies, who are mostly labor organizers from what we can tell.  The prisoners produce a number of products."

"How do we find Trivette?"

"More friends," Dom grinned.  "Between satellite surveillance and some insider information, we were able to eliminate ten of the thirteen known locations."

Walker leaned forward, his expression intense.  "Leaving three for us to check?"

"No, just one, I hope.  I have permission for a couple of our keyhole satellites to take a peek up their skirts.  With luck, we'll be able to eliminate two of the three. With luck, we'll have the results and know where we're going by the time we land."

Walker didn't look convinced.  "And if he's at some location your friends haven't found?"

Dom shrugged one shoulder.  "Then we keep looking.  I have people monitoring Hidalgo's every move.  If he has Jimmy, he'll lead us to him."

"In time?" he demanded.

"In time."

Walker leaned back, letting the information sift through his thoughts.  A faint voice somewhere at the back of his mind said Dom was on the right track.  But it also said he'd better hurry if he wanted to reach Trivette in time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a smooth landing, Dom and Walker unloaded their bags and headed into the airport.  After a swift pass through customs where, to the Ranger's surprise, no one asked them a single question, they walked out to a waiting limousine.

Walker's eyebrows arched when Dom tossed her bags into the trunk and climbed in.  He followed suit, asking when the driver closed the door for him, "Don't you think low profile might be better?"

Dom grinned and shook her head.  "The harder we try to be inconspicuous the more likely it is that someone will notice.  Trust me.  We just look like any other pair of rich Americanos."

Walker grunted, unconvinced.  He was rapidly beginning to feel out of his depth and he didn't like it, not one little bit.

They rode to the same hotel Harris had used in silence.  Once they checked in as Mr. John Booker – Dom said she picked the name because Walker reminded her of a character from an old karate movie she'd enjoyed – and his associate, Ms. Maria Ansari, they headed straight up to their suite.

Dom tipped the bellboy, speaking softly to him in Spanish.  The young man grinned and nodded, then bowed smartly and left.

"What was that all about?"

"Just checking to see if our friend is staying at the hotel," she said, walking to one of her bags and removing a small device that looked like a combination of television remote and voltage meter.  "He stays here when he's in the city," she added, sweeping the room for any potential listening devices.

When she was done, Dom quickly set up her own passive security that would foil anyone trying to eavesdrop on them by conventional means.  A quick check of the phone and modem lines followed.  After adding a line scrambler, she connected the laptop and logged on.

 

> Hello, Dom.  You have two messages.

 

 _Show me_.

 

> Downloading data…

 

Dom. Checked on the requested locations. Your man absent.  Sorry.  Craig

 

What followed was a series of satellite images.  Walker watched the pictures as they passed by and couldn't help but be impressed by the amazing clarity of the images.  When the last photo faded from the screen another message appeared.

 

> Downloading data…

 

Dom, Didn't find much.  Attached is a list of N. Hidalgo's holdings in Colombia.  Two warehouses look like best bet.  And, one point of possible interest: Hidalgo is known associate of one Raul Tarron Sierra, white slavery and drugs.  Sierra and Hidalgo were spotted together at a prison where DEA suspects cocaine is being manufactured.  GPS coordinates listed below.  Will have a keyhole take a peek on next pass. Should have results your a.m.  Will keep digging.  Sandy

 

The list of locations followed, and Dom stared at it for a moment, then at the GPS coordinates for the prison.  She nodded and logged off.  Glancing over her shoulder at Walker she asked, "So, you want to eat here, or go out?"

"Here."

She nodded.  "Yeah, me, too.  I don't know about you, but I want to get to bed early.  It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

The Ranger nodded, but he doubted sleep would come easily.  _Almost there, Trivette_ , he thought.  _Just hang in there, partner._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Seven

 

Jimmy saw the beating coming, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Following breakfast, as was the guards' habit, they picked out one of the women.  This particular morning it was Miguel's mother.  The small boy had flown at the man, his tiny fists raining blows on the man's back as he ravaged the sobbing woman's mouth.

Knowing what would happen, the Ranger had shot to his feet and lunged, tackling the guard and pounding him into the ground.  He got in one good blow before the other guards were on him.  Now, back in the sweatbox, Trivette panted shallowly, sure that he had at least fractured some ribs this time.  One of his eyes was swelled shut, but through the other he could see his cadre in the field.  Miguel worked alongside his mother.  Even from that distance, he could see the bruise on the boy's face.

Trivette hadn't been able to protect the boy's mother, and neither had Miguel. Rosa worked, but the Ranger could see that she was hurting.  A soft whimper passed his lips as a single tear escaped his good eye.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker followed Dom out of the hotel.  They were both dressed in what he could only call "tourist get-ups", but the clothing was practical for the climate and the terrain they'd be moving through, even if they did look like they had stepped out of a Land's End catalogue.  They drew no stares from the people in the hotel lobby, or outside when Dom hailed a cab.

She climbed into the back of the car that pulled up to the curb, and he followed, wondering what she might be carrying in the black duffel bag.

He scanned the faces of the people outside the hotel as she gave the driver instructions in fluent Spanish, his stomach knotting with worry.  If they didn't find Trivette today…

A few minutes later the cab dropped them off at a upscale restaurant that could have easily been in New York or Beverly Hills.  They entered, a young hostess leading them to a secluded table on an otherwise empty outdoor patio.  A waiter appeared next with coffee and pastries.

Walker fidgeted as Dom pulled a laptop computer out of the duffel bag, setting it up on the table.  She sipped her coffee as she waited for the screen to brighten.

"What're we doing here?" he finally asked under his breath.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes, then saying, "Seeing what turned up overnight."  She sighed softly, then added, "Walker, listen, I know you're used to a… different approach, but trust me, we're not going to find Jimmy by running all over the city.  It'll just draw attention to us, and if they ID you as his partner, they'll kill him and we'll never find the body."

The Ranger dropped back against his chair, looking annoyed.  She was right, and he knew it, but he just couldn't rely on computers to find his partner.

"This restaurant is an Agency asset.  Our conversation is safe, and I'm on a secure microwave connection.  And these are the keyhole satellite images of the two warehouses and the prison camp Sandy thought looked the most promising."

Walker felt a chill pass down his spine.  The resources she could bring to bear were so far outside what he would have access to that it was frightening.  Not for the first time he wondered who she worked for and how Trivette had won her loyalty.  This time he'd have to ask – if he got his partner back.

He leaned closer, watching as she worked her way through a series of images of one warehouse, then another.  Then the first images of the prison camp appeared.  Walker watched them pass on the screen, stiffening when he finally saw his partner.

"Bingo," Dom said softly.

She typed a series of commands, the image focusing on Trivette, moving in for a closer look.  The man's faced was badly bruised, one eye swelled shut.

"Jimmy," she said softly, shaking her head.

Walker felt his heart beat faster.  He could tell by the expression on the man's face he was in pain.  What had they done to him?

She pulled up a smaller window and began typing.  He read as she did:  "Found target.  Need help for extraction.  See if Shepherd's team is available.  Need to move within next 48 hours.  Sooner better.  Need constant target monitored 24/7."

She included the GPS coordinates.  That done she closed the laptop and signaled for the waiter, who quickly joined them.  Dom ordered, then looked at Walker, clearly expecting him to do the same.

He wasn't hungry, but he knew he needed to eat.  "I'll have the same," he told the man, who nodded and left.

The food arrived quickly and they ate in silence.  While the waiter was removing their plates, the computer beeped.  Dom opened the lid.  A reply was waiting for them: "Shepherd and crew will join you near target day after tomorrow.  Currently out of the country.  Will re-task birds for your peepshow.  Two four-hour gaps unavoidable.  Sorry.  Good luck."

"I'm not waiting that long," Walker warned.

She looked up at the man.

"You saw what he looked like."

She nodded.  "There's no way the two of us can get him out on our own.  But I do want to get out there.  Just in case we have to try."

Walker glowered at her, but nodded his agreement.  Once they were there, he could do whatever needed to be done.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Eight

 

Thirst _._ The sensation was overwhelming.  Jimmy visualized a huge glass of ice water, condensation beading on the outside, rolling down the side, cooling his hand as he reached out to grab the cold glass, lifting it to his lips—

He stopped.  There was no use adding to his own misery, but hell, he'd settle for an ice cube at this point.

The Ranger shifted position, gasping softly as pain flared in his ribs.  But even that agony couldn't block out the all-consuming need for water that had become his personal obsession.

_Walker, I know you won't give up until you find me, man.  But if it doesn't happen soon you might just find a mummy instead._

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Jimmy vowed he wouldn't go down without a fight.  Walker would expect no less of him, and he'd never let his partner down – not if he could help it.  To give in would mean he was letting Harris win, and there was no way he planned to give the bastard that much satisfaction – not while he had any say in the matter whatsoever.

But without water he would have no say.

Jimmy closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on something other than his current situation.  His dog, Blue, a brindle Great Dane, came to mind first.  When he'd rescued her from drowning in a lake, he hadn't intended to keep her any longer than it took to get her into a shelter.  But after nearly losing her to poisoning, he had found he couldn't just turn her over to a stranger.  Luckily, his landlord had a pretty relaxed policy on pets, and there was no shortage of neighbors willing to look in on Blue when the job required long hours from him.

At least the playful monster was in good hands with Lynn.  If he didn't make it back, he knew he could count on the woman to take care of Blue.

He felt the tears begin to well up again and tried to swallow.  The enormity of his situation crashed in on him again and he leaned his head back against the wall of the sweatbox, grateful the metal hadn't gotten so hot he couldn't bear to touch it.  He blinked rapidly, the freed tears stinging the torn skin in his face, but he was thankful, knowing it meant he had some water left in his system.

He forced himself to find something else to concentrate on…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker and Dom moved though the jungle, using game trails and occasional truck paths to make their way toward the prison camp.

"How much longer?" he asked after several hours passed.

"Two, maybe three hours," she said, wiping the sweat from her face with a OD hand towel that she carried under the strap of the backpack she wore.

He carried a backpack as well.  Both were filled with gear, weapons, food and water.  "We'll have to go through the jungle when we get close."

"I know," she replied.  "There's a hill that overlooks the compound.  If we're quiet, we can use it to get a good look at the layout."

He nodded.  "Good landmark for the team that's coming."

"Exactly."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

It was impossible to keep track of time in the box.  Jimmy drifted in and out of consciousness, not certain if a day or an hour had passed since the last time he was aware.

"Hsst."

At first, Trivette thought he'd imagined the whispered hiss, or dreamed it.  But when it was repeated, he blinked, finally forcing his good eye to focus on the round holes that were just large enough for his fist to fit through.  He gasped when a bottle of water was poked through one of the openings.

"You take," boy whispered urgently.

"Miguel?" Jimmy croaked, even as he reached for the bottle.

" _Si_ ," the child assured.  "You take.  Drink—"

As Trivette's hand closed around the container, he heard the shouts of the guards.  "Run!  Miguel, run!" he ordered in a hiss.

But it was too late.  The guards easily caught the boy, and Jimmy watched in horror as they attacked him with the butts of their rifles, driving him into the ground.

Two of the guards grabbed Miguel, picking him up and holding onto him while a third, larger man backhanded the youth.  The sickening snap of bone and the way his head slumped were all too familiar to the Ranger.  Miguel was dead.

"No!" he screamed hoarsely.  "You bastards!  He was just a kid!"

In the distance they heard the boy's mother scream.  She started toward the guards at a run.

One of the guards lifted his rifle and fired, killing the woman as well.

Grief and anger pushed aside some of his own pain, and Trivette pounded on the walls of the sweatbox, screaming out his rage and frustration at the unnecessary carnage.

The guards dropped the boy's body and moved to the box.  When it was unlocked, rough hands reached in and dragged the Ranger out, feet first.

"Bastards!  Son-of-a-bitch!" he spit at them, kicking his feet as wildly as he could, the searing pain it caused ignored, masked by the grief he felt.  Defiantly, he twisted the bottle open, gulping down as much of the precious water as he could before one of the guards knocked it away.

Trivette continued to fight, kicking and flailing with his arms.  He heard a grunt from one of the men and snarled with satisfaction.  But it was short-lived.  A rifle butt was slammed into his side.  Blood roared in his ears, and his vision dimmed, but he clung tenaciously to consciousness, cursing the men.

Still, the momentary lapse gave his captors time to lift him up, dragging him to the outskirts of the camp before throwing him roughly to the ground.  He struggled to escape on his hands and knees, but they captured him easily.

Panic clawed through Jimmy when he realized he was being tied spread-eagle to stakes driven into the ground.  He struggled, but with less force, his strength deserting him.  He squinted against the blazing tropical sun overhead.

One of the guards prodded him with his rifle, saying something in Spanish before spitting in his face.

Wishing he dared waste enough saliva to return the favor, Jimmy growled, "Go to hell, you son of a bitch."  He knew he might have just goaded them into killing him, but at the moment that seemed preferable to a slow death by dehydration and exposure.

The guards only laughed, walking away and leaving their troublesome prisoner to his fate.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

From a position on the side of the hill overlooking the prison camp, Walker and Dom watched as Trivette was dragged from the sweatbox after the three same guards beat a small boy to death.

"My God," Dom breathed.  "He saw that."

"Yeah," was all Walker said, feeling sick to his stomach.  He watched as Trivette tried to drink down the contents of a plastic water bottle before one of the men slapped it away.  A moment later one of the guards rammed the butt of his rifle into his partner's ribs, doubling him over.

The bearded Ranger's teeth ground as he watched through the small but powerful field-glasses as Trivette was jerked roughly to his feet, then half-carried, half-dragged across the compound to a cleared spot near the fence.  The guards threw Trivette down, and he tried to crawl away, but it was clear his strength had failed him.  The guards had no trouble tying the Ranger's wrists and ankles to four stakes that had been driven into the ground despite the concerted if weak fight Jimmy put up.

When one of the guards spit in Trivette's face, Walker started to rise, but Dom's hand on his arm held him in place.

"Look at him," Walker snarled at the woman.  "He'll die if they leave him out in the sun like that."

"Wait," she said, her voice soft and controlled.

Walker flashed her an angry glare, but she didn't notice, her attention on the compound below.  He watched as she scanned the structures with her own field-glasses.

"What're you going to do?" he finally asked though clenched teeth several minutes later.

"Wait," she replied.  "The team will be here by 1300, then we can move."

"That's my partner down there," the bearded Ranger countered.

"I know that, Walker," Dom replied, her gaze sweeping back to the lifeless body of the young boy still lying near the sweatbox.  _The kid must have given Jimmy the water_ , she decided.  _And they killed him for it_.

Walker waited another few minutes, the muscles at his jaw twitching constantly as he fought back his frustration.  Then he stood.  "You do what you have to.  I'm going to go get Trivette."

He turned to leave, but stopped when she said, "Don't make me shoot you, Walker.  Jimmy wouldn't like it."

He swung back to face her.  Her Glock was leveled at his chest and he stared at it for a brief moment, them met her eyes.  "I'm not leaving him down there to die."

"You go in now and you'll both end up dead," she countered.

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Stubborn, pig-headed, ass," she muttered softly.  "And how are you going to do that?  It's broad daylight, Walker.  He's lying out in the open.  There are over fifteen guards in that camp, that we can see."

"You coming?" he asked, beginning to turn again.

"Walker," she said, her voice like the sharp crack of ice.

He turned back to tell her he was going, with or with out her, but he never got the chance.  Before he could react, she swung the weapon at him, the butt of the pistol connecting soundly with the side of his head.  He dropped like a stunned slaughterhouse steer.

Dom stared down at the Ranger, knowing he was going to be pissed when he woke.  She shook her head.  "I didn't come down here to accompany two bodies back to Texas," she softly told the unconscious man.  "He's my friend, too.  We'll wait.  Stubborn son of a bitch."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Nine

 

At 0100 hours Dom turned on the sonic transponder that would lead Shepherd and his people to them.  She glanced over at Walker, who sat with his back resting against a large rock, his arms folded over his chest.  He was still mad at her, and she really couldn't blame him.  He probably had one hell of a headache.

By the time Walker had awakened, the sun was down and Trivette had been cut loose and dragged into one of the Quonset huts.  Dom had watched as four old women had followed shortly afterwards, carrying buckets of food, bowls, and plastic bottles full of water.  She hoped Jimmy was given his share of the food and water; he definitely was going to need it.

While she waited for the old women to leave the hut, the bearded Ranger had groaned softly, then sat up too quickly, pain flashing through his head and almost making him sick to his stomach.

"Sorry," Dom apologized quietly, recognizing the expression on the man's face and the way his hand moved to press lightly against his midsection.  "Didn't know how hard to hit you.  Guess that was a little too hard, huh?"

He looked up, scowling resentfully at her.  "Where's Trivette?" he demanded.

"They took him into one of the huts just after sundown."

"Alive?"

"Yes, alive," she replied coldly.

Walker grunted, moving over and leaning back against the rock where he still sat, several hours later.  They had shared a meal – two MREs and some water – in silence during that time.

"Where are these friends of yours?" the Ranger asked a few minutes after he watched her turn the beacon on.

"He must be referring to us," a British-accented voice said in the darkness.

Walker and Dom had their weapons in their hands, but they held their fire as four shadows left the trees to join them.

"Wasn't sure we'd ever see you again," the tallest of the men said to Dom.  He was smiling.

She smiled briefly in return.  "Well, you never know.  I appreciate you coming on such short notice.  Matt Shepherd, Army Special Forces; Cordell Walker, Texas Ranger."

Walker stood so he could get a better look at Shepherd.

Matt shook the lawman's hand, saying, "Pleased to meet you, Ranger Walker."  He nodded to each of his team in turn, saying, "Benny Ray, C.J., and Margo."

The bearded Ranger made eye contact with each of the operators as they were introduced, noting the lack of last names.  Shepherd was a cautious man.  He liked that.  And they certainly looked battle-tested and confident, but the presence of a woman in the group surprised him.  Then, glancing over at Dom, he let his reservations go.  If Margo was there, she could take care of herself.

The three operators quickly moved off to set a perimeter, Matt sitting down next to Dom.  Walker joined them.

"I understand the man we're getting out is injured?" Matt asked.

Dom nodded.  "Were you able to get the portable stretcher?"

"Benny Ray has it.  How bad is he?  The closest LZ Chance could find is a good distance from here."

"We're not sure," she admitted, then took a deep breath and started, "We counted fifteen guards, but that's probably just the first shift."

"Fifteen, huh?" Matt asked, then offered the pair a predatory smile.  "Sounds about right."

Matt nodded when Dom finished laying out the situation.  She had done her homework, and Shepherd and his team had already reviewed the satellite photos on their flight to Colombia.  They knew what the target was, and what the layout of the prison camp was like.  It was a straightforward snatch and grab, something he and his people were very good at.

"All right," he said, handing Dom and Walker two spare communications units he'd brought along, "I'll brief the others.  We'll be ready to go in ten."  He stood and silently moved off.

Walker checked his weapons over, adding a couple of backups.  Dom did the same.  Then they put on their earpieces and lip-mikes, tucking the Motorola units into pouches on the vests they both wore.

Exactly ten minutes later, they were on the move.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt's gaze swept the shadows as they moved closer to the camp, which was located in an old river canyon.  Mountains rose up on either side of the flat valley plane.  There was only one road leading in to the camp, and it passed a few farms and a coffee plantation as it wound its way through the jungle.  But any other civilization was several miles away.  Raul Sierra liked his privacy for his drug operations.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Thirty minutes later, they made their way from the jungle to the side of the dirt road where they could look slightly downhill at the compound.  Barbed wire fences circled the buildings and open spaces.  Beyond the fences, the huts and wooden building, setting in a cleared section of land, looked strangely out of place.

"Got one on the right," drawled Benny Ray softly.

"Saw him," Matt whispered into his mike.  "Two of them.  Young.  No uniforms."

"Probably gate guards," Walker suggested quietly.

"Looks like a call of nature," C.J. said as he and the others watched one of the young men leave the small shack and walk over to the trees, disappearing into the shadows.

Ahead of them, the green brush near a small tree moved, then bent down.  The man lifted up and stared at the road, ten yards away.

"He must have seen something.  He's lookin' for us," Benny Ray growled.

Matt had his MP-5 on single-shot, the silencer on.  He moved forward slightly and got off one shot, dumping the young man dead in the lush growth.

The second man, still standing at the gate bolted into the trees.

"Move in, people," Matt ordered.

Brush moved six feet away from where the first man had died.  A voice called a name they didn't catch.  The man gasped, lifted up, and stared straight into C.J.'s grinning face.  A three-round silenced burst from the Brit's H&K knocked down the Colombian.

On Matt's command they all ran for the edge of the brush and checked out the gate again.  There was no movement, no additional guards, no one to notice the absence of the two men.

"All right," Matt said.  "We go in at 0300… eight minutes.  That'll leave us two hours of darkness to make our exfil."

"Which direction, in case we get split up?" Dom asked.

"Back down the road.  LZ's in a fallow field at the first farmhouse you'll come to.  Chance is expecting us by 0500.  Plenty of jungle to hide in along the way."

"Walk in the park," C.J. said.

"I know we're here to get your man out," Margo said softly, "but we might as well help the rest of these people while we're at it.  Put a dent in Sierra's operation."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Matt agreed.  "C.J., you have enough boom to take this place down?"

"More than enough, Major."

They waited silently until the appointed time and moved out.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt watched the others move to the fence through his NVGs.  The fence didn't need cutting.  They simply lifted up the bottom barbed wire strand and crawled under it on their bellies.  Sierra was clearly more interested in keeping the prisoners from breaking out, not someone breaking in from the outside.  No one would willingly enter the prison.

Once inside the compound they quickly moved to the shadows of the closest hut in pairs, the others ready to give them cover fire if that became necessary.

They had just made it to the side of a building when a jeep rounded the far end of the building and snapped on its lights.  Walker saw one man jump out and start toward them at a run, his weapon coming up to fire.  But then the man stumbled and fell into the dirt.  He didn't move.

The driver in the jeep stepped out of the rig and promptly fell backward onto the seat again and slumped forward.

Walker shook his head.  He had to admit, the sound suppressors on the H&Ks were great gadgets, and Shepherd's people didn't miss.

"C.J., Benny Ray, set the charges," Matt ordered.  "Margo, you and Walker take the far end of the hut.  Dom, you're with me.  We go in and get your man on my mark.  Who has the stretcher?"

"I do," Walker said.

Twelve minutes later C.J. announced, "Good to go, Major."

Another two minutes passed, before Benny Ray added, "All set."

"C.J., on three set off the first charges," Matt instructed.  "One… two… three."

The first charge went off.

 _Must be a fuel tank_ , Walker thought as the crack of the near air explosion slammed though the air, followed by a gush of flames, and then a roaring of fire as gasoline from the tank caught on fire, splattering twenty yards away from the hut where they waited, burning furiously.

Seconds later more explosions began to rock the compound.  Men ran from two of the wooden buildings, but were immediately cut down by Benny Ray and C.J.

More charges detonated and the jeeps parked along one fence erupted into flames.  Secondary explosions light up the compound as the gas tanks blew.

"Now!" Matt snapped into his mike, he and Dom hitting the door to the hut and entering with the kind of precision that usually came with long hours of practice. Across the hut, Walker and Margo burst the second door as well.

The prisoners all cowered on their beds, their hand shooting up to show that they were unarmed.  Some cried out in Spanish and Indian dialects, "Don't shoot!  Don't shoot!"

Walker spotted Trivette first and headed straight for the man, knowing the others would watch his back.

Matt used a small ax he found mounted near the door to sever the chain linking Trivette to the wall.

Dom and Walker opened the stretcher and moved the unconscious Ranger onto it while Matt and Margo covered them.  As soon as they were ready to go, Matt moved to the wall, freeing three more people before he handed the ax to one of the stronger looking male prisoners, Margo instructing him in Spanish, "Hurry!  Free yourself and the others.  The camp will be destroyed!"

The man's eyes rounded, but he freed himself, then started on the next prisoner's chains.

"We're coming out," Matt announced over his lip-mike, waving for them rest to move to the far door.

Stepping back into the compound they entered a swirl of smoke-choked chaos.  Half the camp was on fire, and freed prisoners ran in every direction, attacking their guards, who were trying to escape the flames, explosions and gunfire.

Matt led the way back to the fence, he and Benny Ray covering the others while Margo and C.J. used wire cutters to open a hole.  Dom and Walker carried Trivette out, across the road and into the jungle, the others following.

"I'll take over, ma'am," Benny Ray said to Dom once they were well into the brush.

She nodded, letting the sniper swap her end of the stretcher for his H&K.  Lifting the weapon, she scanned the shadows for the enemy as they started off.

They stayed about a hundred yards from the road, crashing through brush as they went.  Just when Shepherd thought it might be safe for then to move to the road, a vehicle roared closer.

"Everybody down!" Shepherd snapped over his lip-mike.  A moment later he saw the vehicle – a jeep with a machine gun mounted on it.  Every hundred yards or so it blasted a dozen rounds into the brush, working alternate sides, then hitting the same side two or three times in a row.

When the jeep was opposite them, the gunner turned the weapon toward their side of the road and fired off two six-round bursts.

The singing lead went high over their heads, all of them lying flat on the ground.  They stayed where they were as the jeep moved on down the road, the machine gun yammering again and again with wasted rounds tearing up the brush.

"Everyone okay?" Shepherd asked, pushing to his feet.

All the replies were affirmative.

"Let's go," Matt said, setting a four-mile-an-hour pace, knowing anything more would be impossible for the stretcher-bearers.

Half an hour later, the machine gunner on the jeep came past again.  This time, he fired on the other side of the road, not even slowing them down.

When they neared the LZ, Shepherd led them deeper into the jungle.  Checking the time, he cursed softly to himself.  It was taking longer than he'd hoped to reach Chance.  Glancing back, he stifled the urge to hurry everyone along.  Given the state of the rescued Ranger, a wrong step by Benny Ray or Walker might dump and kill the man.

Finally Shepherd's receiver began to pick up the sonic-marker he'd been waiting for, a soft, almost cooing sound pulsing into the night.

Activating his radio, Matt said softly, "We're almost to you, Chance.  Get ready."

"Roger that, Major," came the calm response.

"Margo, C.J., any sign of ground pursuit back there?" Shepherd asked over his lip-mike.

"Negative, Major," the Brit answered for them both.  "We're in the clear so far."

"Bit too quiet, if ya ask me," Benny Ray added, his distinctive southern drawl made deeper by the exertion of helping Walker carry the stretcher.

"Huckleberry, why do you _always_ have to look for trouble?" C.J. softly complained, not taking his eyes off the surrounding jungle.

"I'd rather find it first than get caught off-guard, amigo," the sniper replied, but there was no heat in the comment.

Dom listened to the quiet banter, not bothering to silence them.  After all, if they were being tracked, they were leaving an obvious trail as it was.  A moment later she heard the low hum of the waiting chopper as it prepared to take off.  She spared a glance at Jimmy.

"You hang in there, you hear me?" she told the injured man softly.  Looking up, she caught Walker staring at her, his own expression for once open enough for her to read the true depth of his worry.

"Okay, people, chopper's in sight.  If they're going to make a move, now's the time," Matt warned, signaling a halt.  Looking at Walker and Benny Ray, he asked, "How're you doing?  Can you get him to the chopper, okay?  C.J. and I can take over if—"

"I'm fine," Walker interrupted.  For reasons he didn't feel like explaining, he knew he had to stay with Trivette.

Benny Ray nodded.  "Good to go, sir."

Any reply Shepherd might have made was left unspoken when C.J. interrupted, "We've got movement back here.  Two, maybe three."

"No visual contact," Margo continued, even as the pair kept moving to join their companions, "but I can hear them moving up fast."

"Roger that," Shepherd responded.

"I'll go," Dom said.  "You make sure they get him on the chopper."

Matt watched as the woman moved soundlessly into the thick forest.  _She's even spookier than Benny Ray sometimes_ , he mused.  Shaking his head, he quietly hailed their pilot again.  "Chance, looks like we might've worn out our welcome.  What's your status?"

"Climb aboard and pull in the welcome mat, sir.  This bird's ready to fly anytime you are."

"Benny Ray, you and Walker get the Ranger loaded on my mark.  Margo, C.J., cover fire only if we need it.  Don't want to advertise if we don't have to.  Once they're on-board, you two go next.  Dom and I will cover your six."

He waited a moment to see if the men following them would finally attack.  When they didn't, Matt keyed the mike, saying, "Chance, Benny Ray and Walker are bringing out the package."  He signaled to the two men, adding, "Now.  Go, go, go!"

Shepherd moved off in the opposite direction that Dom had taken, ready to protect the two men and the wounded Ranger.  While he knew she probably didn't need help, he had no intention of boarding the chopper until he was sure they were all in the clear.

"Two tangos down, Major," C.J. announced.

Shepherd watched Benny Ray and Walker cross the field to the chopper, at the same time focusing on the night-sounds around him.

"Margo, C.J., get to the chopper – now," he ordered.  There was still at least one tango left in the trees.

A moment later he heard a man's strangled yelp, followed immediately by the unmistakable snap of breaking bone.  Matt winced as he heard Dom announce, "One more in the trees."  Then she was crouching next to him, looking as calm and collected as if she'd just come from a walk in the woods.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Movement caught Shepherd's attention and he fired, dropping the last of their pursuers.

"All clear," Matt reported.

"The others on board?" Dom asked.

"Yeah.  Let's get out of here."  Nodding toward the chopper, he moved, his gaze sweeping the jungle warily as they left the cover of the brush and sprinted across the field.

They both dove through the open hatch.  Chance had the chopper off the ground as soon as the door was pulled closed behind them, and moments later they were swinging toward the mountains, beginning a steep climb.

Matt wiped the sweat from his brow.  The rescue hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd feared, but glancing at the injured Ranger he could only hope they had managed it in time.

Checking each of the others, making sure they were all uninjured, Shepherd was surprised to find Walker studying him intently.  Before he could say anything, the bearded Ranger mouthed, "Thank you."

Matt simply nodded.  Walker reminded him of Benny Ray – a man of few words, but deep, strong emotions.  A man like that wouldn't give his friendship easily, but once it was given, he would stick by you through hell or anything else.  He hoped Walker's partner pulled through.  He'd like to meet the man who'd earned that kind of loyalty from the older Ranger.

Once they cleared the top of the mountains, Chance headed toward Panama, the chopper picking up speed.

Matt stood and headed forward to join the pilot.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The black man glanced over when Shepherd slid into the copilot's seat.  "That was almost too easy," he complained good-naturedly.

Matt snorted.  "You'd rather get shot at?"

"It keeps things exciting!"

"Yeah, well, I think our package has seen enough excitement for a while.  Try not to rock the boat too much, okay?"

Chance sobered immediately.  "Do my best, sir.  How is he?"

"Only got a quick look," Matt replied, "but they sure did a number on him.  Poor bastard's got bruises on top of bruises, and I'll bet a few broken ribs.  He's dehydrated and malnourished, too.  If we'd waited any longer, we would've brought out a corpse."  Matt looked back into the chopper.  Walker was sitting next to his partner.  "Not sure we might not have anyway."

"I'll get us there as fast as I can," Chance promised.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Using a cloth and water from a canteen handed to him by one of the team, he couldn't remember who, Walker began to gently clean the blood and grime off Trivette's body.  Dom and C.J. had already cut the man's clothes off, revealing the full extent of his injuries.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The Brit started an IV on the Ranger, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath as he worked.  Dom started at Jimmy's feet, working her way up, checking for broken bones.

"He's running a fever," C.J. said, meeting Walker's gaze.  "Probably an infection.  He allergic to any antibiotics?"

"No," the Ranger replied.

The Brit nodded and went back to work, giving Trivette an injection of antibiotics.

"A few broken ribs," Dom announced when she was done.  "And I think his cheekbone and wrist might be fractured."  She went to work to immobilize Jimmy's right wrist.

Now and then Walker stopped, resting his hand lightly on his friend's chest, letting the rise and fall reassure him that Trivette was still alive.

"You're safe, partner," he whispered.  "It's over.  You're going home now."  Although Walker knew his partner probably couldn't hear him, he felt better saying the words aloud.  Maybe he could convince himself, even if he couldn't reassure his partner.

Wetting the cloth again, he carefully tended to the cuts and scrapes on Trivette's torso.  He froze when Jimmy tensed, shifting away from him with a soft whimper of pain.

The sound tore through Walker and he swallowed hard.  Clearing his throat, he whispered, "Easy, Trivette.  It's me, Walker.  You're free now… you're safe."  He reached out to grasp his friend's hand, hesitated, then made up his mind. Holding the lax hand in both of his, he squeezed gently, saying, "I'm here, buddy.  I've got you.  So you just hang on as long as you need to, okay?"

Although Trivette gave no outward sign of having heard, Walker could swear he felt just the slightest squeeze of acknowledgment.

C.J. moved closer, taking over for Walker, making sure the cuts were treated with antiseptic.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker anxiously paced the hallway of the hospital at Howard AFB, Panama.  It had been over an hour since Trivette had brought in, and there had been no word yet on his condition.

 _No news is good news,_ he kept telling himself.

As he turned, the Ranger caught sight of Dom, who was curled up in one of the plastic waiting room chairs.  Her arms were wrapped around her legs, hugging them close to her chest.

She looked up as he approached, asking, "Have you called Alex and C.D. yet?"

"No."  At her curious look, he explained, "I was hoping for some word first.  I don't want to tell them that we've found him, then have to tell them that he didn't pull through."  As if the weight of his words had exhausted him, Walker sank wearily onto the seat next to her.

Dom nodded her understanding.  As far as she was concerned, it was amazing that Jimmy had held on this long.  She wouldn't kid herself, the doctors couldn't wave a magic wand and make him better.  His injuries were serious, and compounded by dehydration, malnutrition, infection, and God only knew what else.

"He'd been looking forward to the Jamaica trip for weeks," Walker remembered, shaking his head.  "He'd earned the break, too.  We've been working twelve-hour shifts for weeks, trying to nail Rafael Ortiz.  Trivette's the one who finally broke the case.  We got things wrapped up just days before he was supposed to leave."

"He's always been tenacious," Dom reflected.  Privately, she admitted to being surprised by Walker's praise.  But he had changed since they had first met, that much was obvious when he had contacted her for help.

The sound of footsteps caught their attention and they both looked up to find a middle-aged man in a white coat approaching.  As he drew near, he asked, "Are you the folks waiting for word on James Trivette?"

"That's right."  Walker stood, aware of Dom echoing the movement.  "How is he?"

"He's alive, and that's a miracle in and of itself."  The doctor shook his head.  "He's malnourished and severely dehydrated.  Add to that several fractured ribs, a fractured cheekbone and wrist, a bruised kidney, and an infection of unknown source, fever, shock."  He stopped, noting their reactions.  "I could go on, but I don't see the point."

Walker's face had paled dramatically with the extensive list of injuries. _I should've found him sooner.  I should've called Dom in from the start, when I knew something was up._

Dom's hands had curled into fists as the doctor spoke, and she wished she had a handy target to lash out at.  Concentrating on keeping her voice calm, she asked, "Is he going to pull through?"

"I can't tell you at this point; we just don't know.  In Mr. Trivette's favor, he was in excellent shape before this happened, and none of his injuries, on their own, are life-threatening, except the infection and fever.  If we can stay ahead of that, and if he doesn't any other complications, he should stabilize within the next twenty-four hours.  When we reach that point, then I'll say he has an excellent chance for a full recovery."

"Can we see him?" Walker asked.

"I suppose it won't do any harm, but he's not conscious.  I'll take you," the doctor said, gesturing for them to follow him.

When they reached Trivette's room, the physician raised his arm to block the doorway.  Seeing their questioning looks, he said, "Your friend looks pretty bad.  I just want to prepare you for that before you see him."

"We know, Doc," Walker answered softly for them both.  "We were there when he was rescued."

"I see."  With a nod, the doctor pushed the door open, indicating they could enter.

Dom went in first.  Although no stranger to the aftermath of brutality, this time struck a personal chord.  Jimmy was like family, and seeing him hurt reminded her that she wasn't invulnerable.  Her only consolation was that none of it was connected to her, or to her work.

And, to be fair, she couldn't blame Walker either.  The red-haired Ranger barely remembered the accident that had nearly taken his life several years before. He hadn't even known about Harris' boys until Jimmy had told him, and that after the two young men had been arrested.

No, the only person to blame for this was Mr. Neil Harris, and his two cohorts Neponuceno Hidalgo and Raul Tarron Sierra.  If Jimmy didn't pull through, there wouldn't be a country big enough for the men to hide in, she vowed.  She'd hunt the bastard to the ends of the earth and beyond, if necessary.

As she stood by Jimmy's bed, she stole a glance at her companion.  Dom knew Walker felt the same way, even if he'd rather walk barefoot over broken glass than admit it.  The Ranger's concern was obvious a mile away, to anyone who cared to look beyond the carefully expressionless face to the man's hazel eyes.

With a start, it occurred to her that she and Walker were more alike than either of them cared to admit.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Walker felt Dom's gaze, but chose to ignore it.  He knew she felt he treated Trivette like a subordinate, a kid, and disapproved of it.  But what she didn't know was how much he treasured the child that still survived inside his partner.

A lot of cops burned out after too many years on the streets, and Rangers were no exception.  And while there had been times when Walker was afraid Trivette had reached his limit, the younger man's spirit had always rebounded.

Walker's gut clenched, wondering if that would be true this time.  Conditions in the prison had been brutal, and God only knew what Trivette had suffered in addition to the physical beatings.

Refusing to worry about Dom watching him, Walker approached the bed and rested his hand on his partner's arm, feeling the unnatural heat rising from Trivette's skin.  Keeping his voice soft, he said, "Don't give up, partner.  You've made it this far, you can keep going a little longer.  You're safe now."

Dom blinked rapidly.   _Safe…  Will Jimmy ever feel safe again?_ she wondered.

Shaking the thought away.  Across the bed from Walker, she gently grasped Jimmy's other hand in hers.

The door opened, a nurse coming in.  "I'm sorry," she said, "but you're going to have to leave now.  Your friend needs to rest."

Without protest, Walker and Dom left the room, walking back to the waiting room.  Seeing Dom reach for her duffel bag, and then the laptop reminded him that he had yet to call Alex and C.D.

"I'm going to call home," the Ranger said.  "If I can find a phone."

Dom looked up, nodding.  "Good idea."  She dug into the duffel again, then tossed him a cell phone.  "Use this."

As he walked away, she returned to her work on the laptop.  There was no way Harris, Hidalgo or Sierra were going to escape.

Stepping outside, Walker watched the morning activity pass him by.  He was torn between calling Alex or C.D.  He didn't really want to repeat the story more than once.  Finally he decided to call his ex-partner, figuring that since C.D. was Trivette's mentor, he deserved to be the first to know about the rescue.

He dialed the number for the bar, and wasn't surprised when the phone was answered on the first ring.

"C.D.'s," came the retired Ranger's gruff voice.

"It's Walker.  We found him."  Hearing the whispered prayer of thanks, he continued, "We're at a military hospital in Panama.  He's alive, but it's still touch and go."

"Do they think—?"  C.D. stopped to clear his throat.  "Is he gonna make it, Cordell?"

"If he can beat the infection, the doctor thinks he has a good chance.  The next twenty-four hours or so will tell."

"You gave him that chance, son.  I'm damned proud of you for finding him!"  The older man's voice was strong with emotion.

Walker flinched at the praise.  He hadn't gotten there soon enough.  If he had, Trivette wouldn't be as bad off as he was.

"Look, I've got to go.  Can you pass the news along to Alex for me?" he asked.

"Count on it.  You make sure you call us again when you know more, hear?" C.D. demanded.

"I will."  With that, Walker ended the call and slowly let out a long breath.  Now came the hardest part… more waiting.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When Walker returned to the waiting room, he found Matt Shepherd and his team with Dom.  Although he wasn't in the mood for company, he did want to express his gratitude to these people.  There hadn't been much time for pleasantries on the flight from Colombia to Panama.

The group turned as he approached, and he nodded to them.  "I imagine Dom's filled you in on Trivette's condition."

"Yeah, she has," Matt said, looking sympathetic.

"I wanted to thank you, all of you, for your help," the Ranger said quietly.  "We couldn't have gotten him out on our own."

Dom looked up sharply, alerted by the tone of the Ranger's voice, as well as his words.  From her admittedly limited experience, that sounded out of character for Walker.  Then again, he had been through his own personal hell over the past several days.

"I'm just glad we got there in time."  Matt extended his hand to the Ranger, who returned the handclasp firmly.  "If you or your partner are ever in California, look us up.  The Silver Star, in Hermosa Beach."

"We'll do that," Walker said, shaking hands with the rest of the team before they left.

As he turned to sit down next to Dom, he noticed she was closing the laptop. He briefly wondered what she'd been working on, but knew it was none of his business.  Besides, she probably wouldn't tell him, even if he asked.  Her next words surprised him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"We found Hidalgo's hideout," she offered.  "Shepherd and his team are going after him.  He's probably done us a favor, too – although maybe it was someone else.  In any case, word of the prison break already reached somebody's ear.  Raul Sierra's body turned up about an hour ago.  Someone kindly put a bullet through his brain."

The Ranger nodded, once again reminded that Dom had contacts and resources he couldn't begin to imagine.  And even though he knew she was a government agent of some kind, it startled him to realize that she hadn't said the team would bring Hidalgo in.  Chances were, Hidalgo's time on earth was limited to a few hours, at best.  And that suited Walker just fine.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Shortly after Shepherd and his team left, a medic arrived and offered to show them to a locker room where they could shower and change.  She offered them a change of clothes, saying that Major Shepherd had provided their sizes.

Walker looked down at the OD green pants and white T-shirt.  Yes, Shepherd was a good man.

Once they had cleaned up, Walker and Dom found their way to the cafeteria, and their first solid meal in over a day.  Their conversation was limited to safe topics, both of them careful to avoid mention of Trivette.

But Walker's conscience finally got the better of him.  Setting down his fork, he cleared his throat and looked up at Dom.

Sensing his scrutiny, she looked up, her gray eyes questioning.

"You were right to stop me earlier," he admitted quietly.  "I don't really know what got into me.  I knew there was no way we could get to Trivette, and get him out without help, but—"

"But you couldn't stand there and watch your partner, your _friend_ , suffering like that," Dom finished for him, nodding.  When she had first met Walker, she questioned the man's loyalty to Jimmy, but given the recent events, she knew now that he cared deeply.  And Jimmy knew it.  Why else would he have hung on for so long in that hellhole?  He'd done it because he knew his friend wouldn't give up looking for him.

"I'd lost a partner just days before Trivette and I were first paired up.  I wasn't ready for another partner, let alone a friend, but that didn't matter to Trivette."  Walker rubbed at a callous on his palm, carefully avoiding looking at his companion.  "No matter what I said or did, he just kept coming back for more."

Dom chuckled.  "That's the Jimmy I know.  If I could only use one word to describe him, it would definitely be tenacious."

Walker had to grin.  He'd heard the word applied to his partner by more than one person.  "C.D. calls it bullheaded.  He swears it's one of the few traits Trivette and I share – and the one that drives him craziest."

"I can understand that."  The woman returned his grin.  She was beginning to see a little of the man Jimmy called "friend", and almost unwillingly found herself warming to him.

They finished their meal in silence, then returned to the waiting area.  The nurse had said they could see Trivette later, but hadn't said exactly when.  Hopefully, they'd be allowed another brief visit before too long.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Luck was on their side, and they were given five minutes with their friend about an hour later.  His condition hadn't changed, which at least meant he was no worse than he had been, if no better.

Once they returned to the waiting room again, Dom dug her laptop out of the duffle bag and switched it on.  Wanting to give her some privacy, Walker headed outside for some fresh air.

He was surprised to find that night had fallen; he hadn't realized that so much time had passed since they'd brought Trivette in.  Taking a deep breath, Walker let it out slowly, savoring the cooler air.

There was a sense of unreality about the whole situation that made it hard to comprehend.  The Ranger was accustomed to busting range rustlers, drug and arms dealers, and had even broken up a few slavery rings.  But none of it had prepared him for what he'd encountered in Colombia.

Walker flinched, recalling the sight of the little boy's lifeless body being thrown to the ground, like a rag doll no one wanted anymore.  The knowledge that Trivette had witnessed the boy's murder twisted the man's guts.

They'd gotten Jimmy out alive, but Walker knew his friend would be changed by the events of the past ten days.  Trivette was going to need a lot of support over the coming weeks.

 _He'll have it,_ the Ranger vowed to himself.  With that, he walked back inside to rejoin Dom.

He found the woman once again curled in a seat, but this time her eyes were closed.  Unsure if she was sleeping or not, Walker decided not to disturb her, choosing a seat across from her and making himself as comfortable as possible.

To his surprise, he felt himself drifting off to sleep.  Knowing he needed the rest, he didn't fight it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

### Day Ten

 

Walker wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but when he awoke the sky was turning gray with the approach of dawn.  He stretched, wincing as his body protested the long hours in the uncomfortable seat.

Looking over, he found Dom was also awake.  She was watching him, a faint smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, feeling defensive for no specific reason.

The smile only deepened as she shrugged.  "Nothing."

He knew there was _something_ on her mind, but he was equally sure she wouldn't share it, no matter how hard he pressed.  And frankly, he got the feeling he was better off not knowing.

 _What the hell is between her and Trivette?_ Walker wondered, not for the first time.

He stood up, slowly, stretching his stiff muscles before walking down the hall toward the men's room.  When he returned a few minutes later, Dom stood and headed off, presumably to the ladies room.

Too stiff to consider sitting down again, Walker paced the waiting area.  He knew he should call C.D., and probably Alex, but the truth was, he didn't know any more about Trivette's condition than they had the previous night.

Dom returned several minutes later, looking more awake and refreshed, her hair freshly braided.  He watched as she sat cross-legged in the plastic seat and reached for a magazine.

Deciding now was as good a time as any to try and satisfy his curiosity, Walker approached her and sat down.  Leaning forward, he ventured, "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked up, studying him for several long seconds before responding, "Sure, but I can't guarantee an answer."

"What is it between you and Trivette?  Why are you so interested in him?" the Ranger blurted out.

Dom frowned.  Although she knew Walker's use of his partner's last name was force of habit, long instilled by the military and the police force, it still grated on her nerves.  To her, it relegated Jimmy to a second-class position, and he was worth so much more.

She debated answering, since Jimmy obviously hadn't told Walker their story, but she decided the older Ranger deserved to know, and Jimmy was in no shape to tell him.  For all she knew, he might not ever get the chance.

Finally, she said, "Jimmy's different from most of the guys I've met.   There's something about him, an innocence… a willingness to trust that's very appealing. He reminds me of my late husband in that way.  Given how I live my life, I don't meet many people with the ability to constantly look for the best in others."  She paused to see if he was following her.

Walker nodded.  That very same trait often worried him, making him wonder if, one of these days, Trivette might be betrayed by that very innocence of spirit.  He hoped not, and he'd do anything in his power to prevent that from happening.

"You know that Jimmy's hero as a kid was the Lone Ranger, right?" Dom asked.  Seeing Walker nod again, she continued, "There's still a big part of him that still believes the Lone Ranger can save the day.  And that's what he strives to do, no matter how badly the odds are stacked against him.  I admire that – a lot."

The Ranger listened intently, hearing more between the words than he was sure Dom intended.  Her tone had gone from the polite voice she used with him to a fond, almost wistful sound.

"To be honest, it's his faith in humanity, his hope, that makes him special to me.  Sometimes just remembering that there are and were people out there like him, like John, keeps me going."  Her eyes clouded, and she looked away, her voice dropping to a whisper.  "Jimmy's strong, but even the strongest men can break.  What he's been through—"  She broke off, shaking her head as words failed her.

Walker found he wasn't surprised that her thoughts had so closely mirrored his own.  Taking a chance, he reached out and rested his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

"He's not facing this on his own.  We'll make sure of that," the Ranger quietly asserted.

Gray eyes met hazel, and once again Dom got a glimpse of the man Jimmy Trivette considered his best friend.  Finally, she nodded.  "No, he won't."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Eleven

 

Walker sat in the medical transport plane, watching as his partner slept.  Trivette was finally stable.  It had been touch and go for a while, but the antibiotics had finally checked the infection and his fever had broken last night.  Now IVs continued to replenish and balance his body's fluids, and his injuries had all been well tended.  _Time's all he really needs now…_

 _But he still looks like death warmed over_ , Walker thought sadly.

The bruises on the younger Ranger's face were puffy and mottled, one of his eyes still nearly swollen shut, but at least the constant grimace that had been on his face since they'd found him was finally gone, smoothed away by the healing sleep that now held Trivette in its grip – a grip that was kept tight with the aid of light sedatives.  The doctor didn't want the Ranger upset if he awakened during his flight back to Dallas, so he'd made sure that wouldn't happen.

Walker checked his watch, noting that they only had about an hour before they arrived back in Texas.  He changed the display back to local time – 2:30 p.m.  Having called C.D. and Alex that morning, he knew they would be waiting for Trivette at Methodist, but he wasn't going to be able to join them, not immediately, anyway.

He glanced over at Dom, who was sleeping on another of the narrow beds secured along the sides of the large military plane – a flying hospital, really.  How she could sleep, he didn't know.  Worry for Trivette, anger at Neil Harris, and his determination to bring the man in to pay for what he'd done to his partner sabotaged all of his efforts when he tried to sleep.  Short catnaps were all he'd managed on the long flight.

One of the flight crew, a petite, red-haired woman in her late twenties, made sure he was comfortable, bringing him a meal about an hour ago, and coffee whenever he asked for it.  When she wasn't doing that, she kept a careful watch on Trivette, monitoring his vital signs and other bodily functions.

He looked back to Dom, wondering how she had managed to run Harris to ground.  Walker had called his captain, passing along what he had, so he knew that the not inconsiderable resources of the Texas Department of Public Safety had been brought to bear to find the man, but it was a message on Dom's laptop that had revealed Harris' present location – Mazatlán.  The man was on a SCUBA trip.

The thought made Walker's anger flare again and he felt his jaw tighten.  After dropping his partner off to die in a Colombian prison camp, Neil Harris had headed to Club Med, or whatever resort it was, for some fun and relaxation.  He shook his head, unable to understand that kind of callousness.

Harris was due back in Dallas later in the evening, at 5:53 p.m., booked on a flight under the name of "Harry Neilson" – not particularly creative, but Walker still wondered how Dom's source knew Mr. Neilson was really Mr. Harris.  But he trusted her.  If she said Neilson was really Harris, then he was Harris.

And he and Dom planned to be there to meet the man when he arrived.

His eyes narrowed.  This was one bust he was actually going to enjoy.

"Here it comes," Dom said.  She was standing at the glass windows at the airport gate that looked out onto the tarmac, watching as the Southwest Air 747 slowly taxied closer.  A few more minutes and Neil Harris would be stepping into the terminal.

Walker nodded, heading over to speak to the airline employees manning the gate counter.  He flashed his badge and she looked away.  She preferred to leave working out the details with the locals to the Ranger.  All she was concerned about right now was Neil Harris.

A few minutes later the ramp was extended to the door, blocking her view of the door, but she knew it meant she was a little closer to her prey.

Exactly nine minutes later, Harris exited into the terminal, the fifth passenger off the plane.

 _That's the last time you'll be flying first class_ , Dom thought, her eyes narrowing as she started for the man.

But then Harris saw Walker, and his eyes rounded as his face paled.  Dropping his carry-on bag, the man bolted into the crowd – a mix of those waiting to greet arrivals and others waiting to board the plane and depart.

Dom cursed softly under her breath.  Harris was observant, and he was fast; a regular runner, he quickly opened a good lead on the Ranger.

But Walker was immediately following him, keeping him in sight as he poured on more speed, determined not to allow the man to escape.  Dom, who had plans of her own, paralleled the two men as they navigated through the crowds, worried about what Harris might try if he truly felt trapped.  She discovered the answer to that question several minutes later, when Harris ducked into one of the more exclusive airport lounges.

Seeing the move, Dom headed for the door the service workers used to move food in and out of the room.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Walker follow the man inside.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the lounge, Harris headed straight to the long, well-laden buffet table, grabbing a carving knife, set out to allow patrons to carve their own ham or roast beef slices.  The weapon in hand, he reached next for a petite woman who was in the process of filling her plate.  Moving around behind her, he reached around her with his left arm, sliding it under her left arm and across her breasts.

She squealed, but once she saw the knife, fell silent, her eyes going wide.

"It's over, Harris," Walker said behind him.

Harris jerked back suddenly, lifting her off her feet, swinging her about to hold her between his body and the Ranger, backing farther away from the door until he was almost to another door.  "Get back!" he snarled at Walker.  "I'll kill her!"

The woman screamed, struggling weakly.

"Shut up!" Harris shouted, still holding her inches above the floor with one arm.  He reached up with the carving knife, holding it a couple of inches away from her throat, causing her to scream again.

"Shut up, bitch, or you'll die now!" he shrilled.

The woman fell silent, her panicked gaze locked on Walker as he slowly moved closer.

"There's nowhere to go, Harris," he said calmly.  "Let her go."

"No!  Back off!"

Walker saw the door open, Dom slipping in behind Harris, but his expression gave nothing away.

"I'll kill you, Ranger, just like I killed your stinking partner!  And I'll get that bitch of a D.A., too!  You watch me.  I'll kill all of you!"

Harris began to back closer to the door, stopping when he felt the press of her Glock against the back of his head.  He froze, his entire body going stiff.

"Let the lady go," Dom hissed quietly, increasing the pressure against his scalp.  Harris began to speak, but she interrupted him, adding, "I can squeeze this trigger faster than you can cut her throat."

Harris dropped the knife, then his grip eased, allowing the woman to jerk free.  She bolted away.

"Hands on your head," Dom instructed as Walker joined her.  To the Ranger she said, "We can take him out this way," while nodding to the door she'd entered through.

Walker nodded, the turned to the woman Harris had used as a hostage.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're going to need to file a report.  Can you please meet us at airport security?"

She nodded, looking pale and shaken.  "Yes, of course."

"Can you make it yourself?" he asked her.

"I think so," she replied.

Walker offered her a reassuring smile.  "Then we'll see you there, Ms…?"

"Swanson.  K-Kimberly Swanson."

Walker nodded, then turned and followed Harris and Dom out the rear door.

In the service hallway, the Ranger watched as Dom lowered her Glock, wondering what she was doing.  It was obvious Harris was looking for an opening.  And he took the one he'd been given, sprinting forward down the hallway.

"Harris!" Walker bellowed.  "Stop!"

Dom lifted her Glock and squeezed off a single shot.  Harris pitched forward, hitting the floor and sliding to a stop against the wall.

Walker hesitated a moment, then stalked forward and checked the man, even though he knew what he going to find.  Harris was dead.  He looked up at her, angry.  "Why did you do that?  You didn't have to kill him!" he snapped.

Dom regarded him with calm coolness.  "As long as he was alive, he was a threat to Jimmy."

"He deserved a chance at a fair trial."

"Walker, I'm not going to have a philosophical debate with you about what justice is."

"I could take you in for this," he replied, the threat clear in his voice.

She smiled thinly.  "You could try," she corrected.  "You know damned well what would happen if you tried."

He swallowed his anger.  She was right: there was no way he could hold her, whoever she worked for was too powerful.  A single call to his boss and she would be free.  But she had killed Harris, murdered him, and his sense of right and wrong refused to allow him to drop it.

"This was wrong," he growled.

"Walker, you're a good man, and you have a good code you live by, but it's not my code.  You have certain rules you have to live by, I don't have to play by those rules.  Harris ran, he died, end of story.  Now, you'd better get to security so you can get Ms. Swanson's statement.  I'll take care of this."

Walker stood, honor still demanding that something be said or done, but nothing came to mind.  She was right about one other thing: Harris would not have given up.  If he was alive, he would be trying to kill Trivette, and Alex, and himself.  But it was still wrong.

"How do you sleep at night?" he asked her.

"Like a baby."  Dom smiled, the honesty of the expression and her words sending a chill down the Ranger's back.

And, if he were totally honest with himself, the chill wasn't just due to her words.  There was a large part of himself that was honestly relieved that Harris was no longer a threat to anyone he cared about.  In a way, he owed her for that.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Twelve

 

Walker gave a mental sigh of relief as the government agency car pulled up outside the hospital.  It was just after midnight, and he marveled how good it felt to be home, even if he hated the fact that this was his first stop after dealing with the authorities at the airport.  It was a reminder that the past two weeks had really happened, that they weren't just some nightmare he could shake off.

How Dom had arranged for the car, or what agency it was from, was a mystery, but he was grateful, even if he was still mad at her.

Walker climbed out after her, mentally adding another description to his growing list for the woman: assassin.  He had a hard time imagining his partner pairing with her, either professionally or personally.  But then again, he knew Trivette could be single-minded when the circumstances demanded, and that he'd use any means available to get the job done.  And Dom was a weapon.

Alex and C.D. were waiting for them when they reached the lobby.  And after hugs and greetings were exchanged, Walker immediately asked, "How's Trivette?" as they led him to the waiting room where they had spent the last several hours.

In the small room, C.D. and Alex exchanged glances, Alex gesturing that the older man should answer once they arrived.

After clearing his throat, the retired Ranger said, "The doc said he's holding his own, but that ain't sayin' much from what I saw when they rolled him in here.  What the hell happened to him, Cordell?"

"I'll explain it all later," the other man promised, only wanting to see his partner.

"Has he regained consciousness?" Dom asked.

"No," Alex said, shaking her head, her eyes suspiciously bright.  "They say he's not in a coma; he just hasn't woken up yet."

"Probably the sedatives they gave him on the flight," Walker explained.  "Can we see him?"

As C.D. and Alex led the way to Trivette's room, Alex spotted the doctor who'd been placed in charge of their friend's care.  Hurrying ahead, she called out to him.

Turning, the physician approached the small group.  As he saw C.D., memory kicked in.  "You're the friends of Ranger Trivette, right?"

"That's right, Doc," C.D. answered.  "You remember Alex Cahill, and this here's Jimmy's partner, Cordell Walker… and his friend, Dom."

"Tim Andrews," the doctor said, proffering his hand to Walker and then to Dom.

"How's he doing?" Walker questioned.

"Well, his fever spiked again just after he arrived, but it's been slowly going back down.  There's been no sign of any trouble, and his kidney function is nearly back to normal."  The doctor smiled encouragingly.  "All in all, he's doing very well, given all he's been through."

"So he's still out of danger," Dom said, wanting to be sure they weren't misunderstanding the physician.

"Yes.  He's going to be fine, but that's not to say he doesn't have a long road ahead of him," the doctor cautioned.  "Your friend's been severely abused, so don't expect him to bounce back right away.  In fact, I'd strongly urge you to seek the services of a mental health professional for him.  I could arrange for one of our staff to drop by and talk to him, or his insurance company probably has a list of professionals on their plan."

Walker knew his partner would resist the idea, but he vowed he'd do whatever it took to get Trivette back – whole and healthy, in all ways.

"If you'd like, two of you can see him now.  In the morning he can have more visitors.  You should all go get some rest until then.  If you'll excuse me, I've got to check in on some of my other patients, but if you have any questions or concerns, just ask the nurse to page me."

After the doctor had left, Dom said, "I have a friend who specializes in cases like this.  I'd like to give her a call and see if she'd be willing to meet with Jimmy once he's stronger."

The three friends exchanged glances and Walker nodded.  Meeting her gaze he said, "Whatever it takes."

Dom nodded, knowing it was as close to acceptance as Walker was going to get when it came to her methods.  "Great."

"Alex and I peeked in on him after they got him settled in his room," C.D. said, gesturing toward the door.  "Why don't you and Dom stop in, then we'll get you home so you can get some decent shuteye?"

Walker nodded gratefully at his old friend.  Pushing the door open, he held it for Dom, then followed her inside the private room.

Eyeing his partner critically, Walker decided the younger man looked better than he had during the flight from Panama, although he couldn't put his finger on the difference.  He decided that if he had to describe it, it would be the even more relaxed expression on the man's face.  It was almost as if Trivette knew he was finally home.

Gently taking Jimmy's hand, Dom softly kissed it while she reached out with her other hand to gently stroke his cheek.  "You're home, Jimmy," she told him.  "You're back in Dallas, just like I promised.  So do me a favor and wake up soon, okay?  I'd like to see those gorgeous brown eyes at least once before I have to go."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then stood back to allow Walker to take over.

As he had before, the Ranger rested his hand on Trivette's arm.  "You made it, partner, and in my book, that makes you one of the strongest men I know."

Dom blinked, surprised a second time to hear the Ranger verbally acknowledge his respect for his partner.  Although she still couldn't understand why Jimmy put up with Walker's attitude, she found herself admitting that Walker was a better friend than she'd given him credit for.

A few minutes later, a nurse entered the room.  Clearing her throat softly, she said, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave now."

Walker nodded, then to Trivette he softly said, "Hang in there, partner, we'll be back later."

As they walked out of the room, Walker had a sudden sense of foreboding.  Perhaps the hardest part of this ordeal wasn't over just yet.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Thirteen

 

Awareness returned slowly, at first only allowing him to register bits and pieces of conversation, then, slowly, shadows and shapes moving beyond his closed eyelids.  Then both voices and movement were gone and he knew he was alone.

He opened his eyes, blinking to clear the haze.  At first he couldn't tell where he was, then the all-too-familiar smell of a hospital hit his nose and his memory returned in a rush: Neil Harris… the guards… the beatings… Miguel.

 _Oh God, Miguel.  I'm so sorry!_   Anguish pierced him.  He'd been hoping the whole thing had been a nightmare, that he would wake to find that it had never happened.  But his presence here said otherwise.  And that meant the little boy had died trying to help him.

_Why couldn't I have died too?_

Turning toward the sunlight coming in the half-open window, Trivette caught sight of a bouquet of flowers sitting on a bedside stand.  The cheeriness of it made his stomach turn.  With a growl he grabbed it awkwardly, the cast on his one wrist making it harder than it would otherwise be, then hurled it away with what little strength he had.  It fell short of the door, but nevertheless shattered with a gratifying crash.

Still, it wasn't enough.

He swept the phone off the nightstand.  Then the tug of his IV pole registered and he pulled out the needle, yanking on the tubing until the stand toppled over as well.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Walker tried to rest after C.D. dropped him off at the ranch, but his mind kept torturing him with images of the boy's death…  Trivette's appearance when they had found him… and Dom, shooting Harris.  Unable to sleep, he headed out to his truck and drove back to the hospital.

He couldn't explain it, even to himself, but right now he knew he needed to be near Trivette.

He chuckled, imagining the look he would see on Trivette's face if he tried following the man to the john, or on a date.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Getting off the elevator on Trivette's floor, Walker made his way to the waiting room where he had found Alex and C.D. earlier.  It was late; no one else around, and he was grateful for that.  And although the hospital staff shot questioning looks his way as they passed, no one asked him to leave.

He found a comfortable position in one of the over-stuffed chairs and closed his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Much to his surprise, Walker realized that he'd fallen asleep for a while.  But he wondered if it was an unwritten requirement that hospital waiting room chairs be made as uncomfortable as possible to sleep in.

Idly he wondered where Dom had spent the night.  He hadn't asked and, frankly, he didn't care.  He wasn't sure he could really trust her, especially after witnessing her cold-blooded execution of Neil Harris.

 _Be honest!_ his inner voice chided him.  _You're not mad at Dom, you're mad because she did what you couldn't._

With a sigh, Walker admitted the truth behind that.  Admitted also that he was going to have to find a way to get along with the woman, because, like it or not, she was a part of his best friend's life.

Pushing to his feet, he walked over to the window, staring out at the bright, sunny morning.  It was going to be a beautiful day, the kind Trivette liked for running – warm, but not too hot yet.

The sound of glass shattering cut through the early morning stillness, making Walker jump with surprise.  A man's shout galvanized the Ranger into motion, his mind immediately identifying the voice as his partner's.

Sprinting to Trivette's room, Walker saw a blur of movement and ducked, narrowly avoiding being struck by the, thankfully, empty bedpan.  Cautiously standing up straight again, he looked around in shock.  It was a disaster.

Then he got a good look at his partner.  Trivette had pulled out his IV, and his arm was bleeding heavily.

"Trivette!  What the hell—?"

Walker hurried to the bed, putting pressure over the wound.

"Let me go!"  Struggling weakly, the black man tried to pull out of Walker's grasp.  "It should've been me!"

"What?" Walker asked, shocked into momentary stillness.  "Trivette, what're you saying?"

"You should've let me die!" the younger man cried, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks.  "It was me they were after!  Not Miguel.  Why'd they have to kill him?  He was just a kid!"

The pain in Trivette's voice made Walker flinch.  He wished he had a good answer, but he knew that anything he said would just be platitudes, and empty ones at that.  The fact that he was glad his partner had survived wouldn't matter to Trivette – not now.

"What's going on in here?" the floor nurse demanded as she stepped into the room.

Walker turned to face her.  "Give me a minute with him; I can get him calmed down."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then relented.  Taking a look at her patient, she said, "Make it fast, he's pulled out his IV and his arm really needs to be looked at."

Without waiting to see if she left, the Walker turned back to his friend, who had turned onto his good side and was trying his best to curl into a tight, fetal position.  Grasping the man's tense shoulder, the older Ranger forced the injured man to turn back and face him.

"Trivette—"  Clearing his throat, the older man tried again.  "Jim, I know there's nothing I can say to make this any better.  I wish I could.  And I don't know why that little boy had to die, either.  The fact that you lived must mean you've got unfinished business—"

"He was just a kid!  A little boy," Trivette rasped.  "He had nothing but unfinished business!"  And with that, he curled up again, withdrawing as totally as if he'd built a physical wall between them.

The truth of Trivette's words pierced Walker's heart.  Knowing he didn't have any answer, he wisely kept his mouth shut, but he also kept his hand on Trivette's shoulder, wanting the younger man to feel his presence.

The door opened and a doctor walked in, the same nurse from earlier following behind him.

"Good, you've managed to get him calmed down," the doctor nodded, grateful.  "Let's look at that arm and get another IV running.  Sharon, call housekeeping and get them in here to clean up this mess."

Knowing he would only be in the way, Walker stepped out into the hallway.  His knees suddenly felt weak, and he leaned back against the wall, letting his head rest against the hard surface, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply.

Bleakly, he wondered how quickly Dom's friend could get to Dallas.  He shivered.  Unless he was misreading his partner, and that wasn't likely, Trivette was bordering on suicide, or at least harboring thoughts in that direction.  And that scared Walker almost as much as the realization that Trivette had gone missing in the first place.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Day Fourteen

 

Walker knocked on the door to Alex's office, and the blonde attorney looked up from the file she'd been reviewing, smiling warmly.

"You're right on time, for once, Cowboy."  Pulling her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk, she stood and walked around to join him.  "Don't tell me crime's actually taking a break?"

The Ranger shook his head.  "I wish!  Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, and they stepped out into the hallway.  As she locked her office door behind her, she said, "C.D. called a little while ago.  Dom's friend's flight gets in tonight at seven."

"Tonight?"  Walker scowled, heading for the elevator.  "Is there anyone who doesn't jump when that woman tells them to?"

Alex stopped to look at him, shocked.  "Walker, Dom's doing this for Jimmy!  You said yourself that you were worried about him.  I thought you understood that Jimmy's going to need more than just our help to get through this?"

The red-bearded man had taken a few more steps before realizing Alex wasn't right at his side.  Turning, he saw confusion and a hint of anger in her expression.

"I do."

"Then what's the problem?" she challenged.

He debated answering for a moment, then finally admitted, "I don't trust her."

"Okay, I can understand that," Alex said.  "She's easily the most dangerous person I've ever met – male or female.  But, Walker, she's Jimmy's friend.  She cares about him.  I'm sure she only has his best interests at heart here."

Walker knew Alex was right.  He just wished he could forget the sight of the woman shooting Neil Harris.  Sticking a hand in his pocket and fingering Trivette's college ring, he sighed.  He owed Dom more than he could ever repay, or put into words.  "C'mon," he said, "let's get over to the hospital."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Son, you've got t' try an' eat some of this," C.D. urged, waving the spoon of broth under Trivette's nose in an attempt to entice him.

"I'm not hungry, C.D.," Jimmy said, turning his head away.

"I know it don't taste like much, but–"

The door opened, Alex and Walker walking in to join them.  The blonde ADA looked first at C.D., saw the minute shake of his head, then turned to study Jimmy.

"But nothing!" Alex said.  "You need to eat, Jimmy, or pretty soon they're going to have to take other measures."

"Great, instead of one mother hen, I get three for the same price, is that it?" the man asked sarcastically.

"Trivette—"  Walker had never seen his partner like this before, and he was at a loss as to how he should react, or how cope.

"Look, I know what you're all trying to do," the injured man said, his words clipped with anger.  "But I'm kind of tired, so I'd appreciate it if you'd all just leave now."

The door opened again, and Dom walked in.  Having heard Jimmy's last words, and feeling the tension in the room, she was glad she'd already contacted Dr. Poe.

Spotting her, Trivette grimaced.  "Great, you come to join in on the fun?  Watch the sick man fall apart?"

"Jimmy!" Alex gasped.

"It ain't like that, son," C.D. protested, his eyes suspiciously bright.  "No one's gettin' any satisfaction outta this."

"C.D., Alex, could you give us a few minutes?" Dom requested, her tone giving away nothing.

Walker didn't ask if he should leave, nor did he make any move toward the door.  There was no way he was leaving his partner on his own at the moment.

The other two left, and when the door shut behind them, Dom took a breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten as she did.  Then she turned to her old friend.

"I know you've been through hell, Jimmy, but that does _not_ give you the right to act like an ass to the people who care the most about you.  Don't make me regret rescuing you," she warned.

Walker raised an eyebrow at that, but he kept silent.

"Why?  I do," Jimmy shot back.  "Regret it, that is."

She nodded.  "I know you do.  But right now, you're outvoted.  There are more of us who want you alive, then one who wants you dead – you.  Majority rules."

"Says you."

"Damn straight."

Standing by the door, watching the two verbally spar, Walker had to admit Dom knew how to handle Jimmy.  The younger man liked to push until he got someone angry enough to lose control, and she refused to play into his game.

"Aren't you forgetting a few people?" the injured Ranger sneered.  "Like Neil Harris and his friends?  As I recall, they'd be more than happy to hear news of my demise."

"That's only gonna happen if cell phones work in hell," Walker said, meeting Dom's gaze and giving her a small nod.  He could see where she was leading the conversation, and he agreed with her.

"W-What?"  For the first time Jimmy faltered, looking between the two, confused.

"We weren't lying when we told said you were safe, Jimmy," Dom quietly answered.  "The man who ran the camp, Raul Sierra, is dead.  Hidalgo had him killed.  And the friends who helped us rescue you took care of Hidalgo."

Still trying to process what she's said, Trivette looked at Walker for confirmation.  Seeing the older man nod, he asked gruffly, "What about Harris?"

"Dead," Walker assured his partner.  "I saw it with my own eyes.  He was… resisting arrest, and Dom shot him."

Trivette's eyes narrowed.  He knew Dom far better than Walker did, and he knew there were few men she couldn't control unless there was a damned good reason not to.  Besides, Walker had never been able to lie convincingly.

"You offed him," Trivette said, his voice cracking as he met Dom's gaze.  "Tell me I'm wrong, Dom!"

Walker watched in amazement as the woman shifted uncomfortably, then took a deep breath and say, "Yes, I killed him.  Men like that don't give up.  He would've come after you again, along with anyone else he saw as responsible for his son's death – Walker… Alex."  She shook her head.  "I couldn't let that happen.  He crossed my line, Jimmy.  He had to be stopped."

"Then it's over."  Trivette looked between the two of them.  "It's really over."

"Yeah, partner.  You're safe," Walker softly assured him.

"Thank God," Jimmy whispered, leaning his head back against the pillows and blinking rapidly.

Figuring now would be a good time to change the subject, Walker approached the bed, sticking his hand in his pocket as he did.  Keeping his fist closed, he said, "There's something I've been keeping for you, partner.  But I think it's time for you to have it back."

Staring up at Walker with confusion, Trivette sat up a little bit.  "What're you talking about?"  He looked at Dom, who looked just as puzzled as he felt.

"I've never seen you without this, so when I found it in the trunk of your car, I knew you were in trouble," Walker explained.  Opening his hand, he offered the ring to his partner.

As he accepted it, Jimmy whispered, "I knew something bad was going down. This was the only way I could think to let you know I was in trouble."

"It worked, Jim.  That was quick thinking.  I just wish—"  Shadows flickered over Walker's face.  Clearing his throat, he continued, "I just wish we'd been able to find you sooner."

"Hey, it's a miracle you guys were able to find me at all."  The black man looked up at his friends.  "Thanks just doesn't cut it, y' know?"  He held out his hand to Walker, and when the red-bearded man reached out to return the handshake, Jimmy pulled him into a loose hug.  His ribs protested, but he didn't care.

"I had to do it," Walker said, returning the hug, then stepping back, his ears just a bit red.  "I'm not ready to break in a new partner after all the work I've put in, getting you in shape."

This time Walker's teasing didn't bother Domr nearly so much.  It sounded almost… brotherly, not patronizing.  Had Walker changed, or was it just her perception of him that had shifted?  After all, when it came to Jimmy, she had to fight a tendency to be a little overprotective.

Checking her watch, she realized she needed to get going if she was going to be in time to meet Dr. Poe's plane.  But first, she had to tell Jimmy…

Clearing her throat, she said, "Walker, could you excuse us for a minute?  There's something I need to talk to Jimmy about – in private."

"Sure."  Turning to his partner, the older man said, "Behave!  Or I'll make sure C.D. knows who switched the kegs on him last April Fool's Day."

Jimmy chuckled, remembering the old man's outrage at finding he had rootbeer on tap, instead of Coors.  Before Walker could open the door, Trivette called out, "Hey, Walker?  Thanks, man.  I mean it."

With a nod and small smile, the older Ranger stepped out into the hall.

Once the door had shut, Jimmy turned to Dom.  "What's up?"

She studied him for a moment, taking in the bruises, the still-swollen flesh around his eye, the cast.  Reaching out, she ghosted a finger over the damage.  "These will all heal in time, y' know.  A week or two from now and you'll look as handsome as ever."

He nodded, confused.  This wasn't the first time he'd been on the receiving end of a beating.  He knew the results were just temporary.

"As badly as you were beaten, it can't compare to what those bastards did to you here, Jimmy."  Brushing his temple with the backs of her fingers, Dom continued, "Those wounds don't heal as easily.  We keep picking at them, breaking them open again and again."

"What're you getting at, Dom?" Jimmy asked sharply, although he had a feeling he already knew.

"I have a friend, someone who specializes in treating victims of violence, among other things."  Stroking his cheek lightly, Dom said, "I'd like you to give it a try, Jimmy."

"Dom, I'm fine!" the Ranger protested.  "I don't need—"

"No, you're _not_ fine, and no one expects you to be – not after what you've been through.  Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't still think you should've died instead of Miguel?  Or that you're glad to be alive?"  After a silent pause, she nodded.  "That's what I thought."

"I just need some time," he protested weakly, but the look she gave him made him cringe slightly.  Knowing he really didn't have much of a choice, he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "Okay, okay!  I promise to meet the guy, if it'll makes you happy."

Dom decided not to tell him Dr. Poe was a woman; he'd find out soon enough for himself.  "That's all I ask, Jimmy.  We just want you well and happy again."

He nodded, fighting back a yawn.  "I know…  I owe you, Dom.  Without your help, my bones would be bleaching in the sun back at that hellhole.  I just hope this didn't get you in any trouble with your boss."

"After all I've done for him over the years, he owes me," she said.  "You let me worry about that."

Jimmy yawned in earnest this time.

"I think it's time for you to get some rest."  Leaning over to kiss his good cheek, she whispered, "I'll be back later, with my friend."

"Mmm," he managed, his eyes already closing.

Before walking out the door, Dom studied her friend, taking in the sight of him.  He had a long way to go before he was back to normal, but at least now he had some fight in him.

"Rest easy," she whispered, then stepped out into the hallway to join Walker and the others.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Later that night, Dom sat with Walker in the overly familiar waiting room while Dr. Amelia Poe met with Jimmy for the first time.

Dom thumbed through a magazine, and Walker paced the small room for several minutes before he sat down, and cleared his throat.

Looking up, Dom asked, "Something on your mind?"

Walker hesitated a moment, then asked, "Who is the doctor?"

Dom smiled.  "Dr. Amelia Poe, M.D., Ph.D.  Her degrees are in psychiatry and psychology.  She works for the government, most of the time, debriefing field agents, among other things.  She also has a small private practice.  She's a specialist in PTSD."

"Chinese?"

Dom nodded.  "Her parents were brought over in the 1860s to work on the intercontinental railroad.  She went to Stanford and Yale."

"Impressive."

"She's amazing," Dom agreed, a sad smile on her lips.  "When I lost my husband, I wasn't sure if I wanted to live and revenge him, or die and be done with it.  She helped me pull my shit together.  She seems to know just how far to push, just the right buttons to push.  It's not fun, and it's not easy, but she gets the job done, and done right."

"And you think she can help Trivette."

It was a statement, not a question.  "Yes, I know she can."

Walker nodded.  "What can we do?"

"Whatever Dr. Poe tells you to," Dom replied.  "And if she tells you _not_ to do something, listen.  She makes me look like a lamb."

The Ranger's eyes rounded with surprise.  "I'll keep that in mind."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

# Two Weeks Later

 

Dom stood back, watching the general chaos as Jimmy prepared to leave the hospital.  Dr. Poe had worked one of her usual miracles, the handsome black Ranger looking not only healthy, but honestly happy as well.

She knew there were still times when he lapsed back into the depression that had haunted him, but those times were growing fewer and lifting much quicker when they did come.

And, after a long talk with the petite Oriental psychiatrist, Dom had made a second trip to Colombia to pick up something the doctor thought might help Jimmy. And that was waiting for him in one of the conference rooms, which was where he was going, as soon as the four friends got their acts together.

Dom grinned and shook her head.  C.D. was trying to make sure Jimmy had everything packed, opening and closing all the drawers in the room at least twice.  Alex was checking and double-checking that he had his medications, prescriptions, and appointment reminder cards.  And Walker and Jimmy were arguing animatedly over whether or not the younger Ranger was walking out of the hospital, or using the wheelchair the bearded Ranger was pushing.

She stepped up, whispering into C.D.'s ear, "You already checked all those – several times."

The older man's eyes rounded and his cheeks turned rosy.  "I did?"

She nodded, then turned her attention to Alex, saying softly, "I think we better get them out of here before they send security to throw them out."

The pretty assistant DA agreed.  With silent understanding, Alex moved to Walker's side, Dom to Jimmy's.

"Come on," Alex said, "let's go get the car."

Walker didn't want to leave, but he allowed Alex to lead him off.

C.D. trailed behind the pair, carrying Trivette's suitcase and a bag full of presents.  He called over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go put these in the car, Jimmy.  We're be right back to get you."

Trivette waved him off, saying, "I'll be fine.  Meet you out front."

Dom waited until they were all out of sight, then wheeled the chair up next to Jimmy, saying, "Have a seat, handsome, I'm going to take you on a ride."

The Ranger grinned at her and sat down.  "Have I told you how much I appreciate all you did?" he asked her.

"Let's see, I think it's up to eight– No, nine– Make that ten times," she teased, then sobered and added, "Yes, you have.  And you're very welcome."

Jimmy dipped his head.  "And not the least is Dr. Poe.  She's pretty amazing."

"Yes," Dom agreed, "she is.  I wouldn't have made it past John's death if it hadn't been for her.  I still drop in from time to time, so if you need to talk to her, give her a call."

Trivette nodded.  "I will.  At least the nightmares are over.  Well, mostly over."

"It'll take some time for them to go away for good," Dom told him.  "But they will."

"Promise?"

"Yes.  And, while I'm thinking about it, I have a favor I want to ask."

Jimmy looked up, meeting her serious gaze.  "What is it?"

"The next time you decide you need a vacation, and you plan to leave Dallas, call me!  I'll make sure you get to where you're going safe and sound!"

The Ranger chuckled softly.  "Yeah, well, I know my track record isn't that good, but I swear it's some kind of a virus I caught from Walker."

"I don't care what it is, I just want you to promise me that you'll call me."

He grinned.  "All right, I promise."

"Thank you!"

Jimmy glanced at the door, then back to Dom.  "Guess we better go catch up with them."

"We will, but I have a little side-trip planned first.  You up for it?" she asked, walking around behind him and pushing him out of the room.

"Uh, I guess that depends on what you have in mind," he replied.

"I have something for you, something Dr. Poe thought you might enjoy."

"Okay," Trivette replied, suddenly getting nervous.

A few moments later Dom rolled him into a conference room, and, seated at the long oval table was a young woman and a little girl.  Trivette recognized the child immediately.  "Maria?"

She looked, then smiled at him as she bolted out of her chair, running to him and launching herself into his lap.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a tight hug, chattering non-stop in rapid-fire Spanish.

Jimmy hugged the girl close, his eyes filling with tears.  When she finally fell silent, although she didn't let go, he asked Dom, "What did she say?"

"She said that her mother and Miguel said you were an angel, that you were kind to them."

The tears rolled down Trivette's cheeks.  "I didn't do anything except get them killed."

"She said you were the only one who ever showed them any kindness."

The older woman stood and walked over to lift Maria up, holding her.  "My English… is no so good," she said.  "I there… I see…  Rosa was my sister… you were good man.  You friends help us.  We free now."

"I'm so sorry about Rosa and Miguel.  I never wanted them to get hurt.  He was just trying to help—"  And then he recognized her:  the young woman who'd been raped.

"I am alive," she said.  "I thought to die, but I live.  And Maria.  And _mi madre_.  You save us.  You very brave."

Jimmy shook his head.  "I just survived.  I wasn't brave.  Miguel was the brave one."

"Yes, Miguel much brave; good boy.  But you good too," she argued.  "You give us hope.  Show us how once we were.  Once we helped each other, but the fear. . ."  She shook her head.  "You give us new life.  We want thank you."

Maria wiggled and the young woman set her down.

Trivette stood and gave the young woman a heartfelt hug.  "Will you be all right?  You and Maria and your mother?"

" _Si_ ," she replied.  "Men come, give job.  We live best."

"I'm very glad," Jimmy told her, then squatted down so he was at Maria's level.  "Thank you," he told her, reaching out to tug on one of her braided pigtails.

Maria giggled and smiled at him.

"I want to know how they're doing," he said softly to Dom.

"Already taken care of," she assured him.  "They're working for the American Embassy.  Maria will go to a good school, and her aunt and grandmother will have everything they need to live a comfortable life.  You have my word on that."

Jimmy nodded, but he was smiling at the girl, who was twirling around in her new dress, dancing for him.

They talked for a while longer, but as soon as Dom could see that Jimmy was getting tired, she spoke to Consuelo, who said their good-byes, then left the room.

Jimmy sank down in the wheelchair.  "I'm glad they're going to be okay."

"You made an impression on several people in that camp, Jimmy.  You showed them what they had lost.  None of them are ever going to forget that," Dom told him.

"I just wish…"

"I know," she replied softly, reaching out to caress his shoulder.

"Did Walker and Alex and C.D. know about this?"

"Yes," she said.  "Come on, they're waiting for you at C.D.'s."

Jimmy nodded.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, knowing it would take time, but James Trivette would heal, heart and soul.

The End


End file.
